Fire & Ice
by The Drowned World
Summary: AU What If? story where the events of "Angel" are changed so that Angel rescues Xander instead of Buffy, and that changes everything, leading down a path none of them could have expected.. AU, Slash, Xander/Angel. Oneshot.
1. Chapter 1: Decode

A/N: The whole idea behind this is to switch Xander and Buffy's positions in the season one episode "Angel." That is, I've juxtaposed their roles – have Angel rescue Xander and having the kiss be between Xander and Angel as opposed to Buffy and Angel.

According to an interview with Joss Whedon, _Xander_ was initially supposed to become gay, as opposed to Willow, in the fourth season. This, of course, shines through instantly in the rampant sexual tension between Xander and Angel, and of course Xander and Spike. It's why Xander had the "gay" conversation with Larry in "Phases" and why Xander constantly gets joked on with the gay references. Because I love Xander/Angel so much, I'm recreating one of the great points of season one through this viewpoint.

This is, for now at the very least, a one-shot. It's a thing that's for me (I've always wanted to do this but never really had the drive till now) but also for the fans/readers of my epic ongoing _Buffy_ fic _the Passion of Angels and Demons_. The new chapter of that is _finally_ posted, so here's a little something that I've wanted to do as a fun side project for a little while. I've enjoyed it and I hope you do too.

**Warnings**: Slash – non-graphic but thoughts of sex and stuff like that might enter in: it's rated 'T' for a reason; Xander/Angel pairing; violence; angst

**Note**: Although this follows the plot of "Angel" for the most part, it is not a direct adaptation of the episode – I'm going to be changing parts of it for my own purposes, but either way, there's a disclaimer down below.

I _have_ changed dialogue in certain scenes, added scenes, and deleted scenes that wouldn't make sense in this AU version of "Angel." For instance, I always thought it was kind of weird how Giles didn't know who Angelus was until he looked at the Watchers' diaries when in the second season after Angel become evil Giles suddenly had whole volumes on Angelus, Spike and Drusilla. So I've gained the assumption that Giles is able to find what a cruel, evil bastard Angelus really was.

Also, this is going to be posted in three chapters, because this came out to about fifty pages (!) and I thought it would be good to end it like "chapters" so you guys could get a break, and also decide whether or not you want to read this anyway.

**Important Note**: I've said in this that Angelus killed three Slayers. This is invented by ME and is NOT cannon! I've added this because I always thought it was bogus that Spike killed two and Angelus is never mentioned as killing one, despite how much of a worse evil he was than Spike. Including the fact that Angelus was the first one to tell Spike about the Slayer, and that Spike said in "School Hard": _"Time was, you would have killed her in a heartbeat."_ I'm going to assume that he's killed more Slayers than Spike.

**DISCLAIMER**: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ was created by Joss Whedon (THE KING!), and is owned by Mutant Enemy (and I think maybe FOX, I'm not sure.) There is no copyright infringement intended by this work of fan fiction, and no money is being made.

"Angel" was written by David Greenwalt (THE GREAT!), and though this isn't going to follow the exact transcript except in certain parts, I'd like to credit BuffyWorld for the transcript. The transcript was written by AleXander Thompson, who does an _amazing_ job with episode transcripts, just so you know; I think that he's done all of seasons one and two and a huge chunk of season three.

Alright, now that that's over with, here we are with the story!

**Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Season One, Episode Four – "Teacher's Pet"**

_**Xander (Upon seeing Angel for the first time): Well…he's **__**buff**__**. She never said anything about him being buff!**_

_**Willow: You think he's buff?**_

_**Xander: He's a very attractive man! How come **_**that**_** never came up?**_

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

_Fire & Ice_

Chapter 1

_Decode_

_The truth is hiding in your eyes_

_And it's hanging on your tongue_

_Just boiling in my blood_

_But you think that I can't see_

_What kind of man you are_

_If you're a man at all_

_Well, I will figure this one out_

_On my own_

_(I'm screaming I love you so_

_My thoughts you can't decode)_

_How did we get here?_

_I used to know you so well_

_But how did we get here?_

_I think I know…_

"Decode" by Paramore (_from_ _Twilight (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)_) 1

Sunnydale, California – a beautiful, quiet, southern Californian suburbia. It boasted a quiet place – about two hours from any big town in California, Sunnydale wasn't near any large fault lines (the last large earthquake had been in 1937), had its own lovely little beach, a large wood to the north, and ran into the desert on the way to Arizona on the East. Residents of Sunnydale either loved it or hated it, but all of them seemed to be oblivious to the true nature of the town.

Sunnydale was founded in the late 1800's after the original Spanish settlers had run, terrified from the town. The indigents had dubbed it _Boca del Infierno_, the Mouth of Hell. Sunnydale was in fact situated on a Hellmouth, a center of mystical convergence where the veils between the human world and the Hell realms are about as thick as old tissues. Vampires, demons, and the other nightmarish elements of the world were drawn to the town like an alcoholic to an ABC store.

Nearly a century ago, a very old, powerful master vampire known simply as "The Master" travelled to the Hellmouth. Heinrich Joseph Nest, as he was once known, led his cult of ancient, powerful vampires to the Hellmouth with the dream of opening the Hellmouth, unleashing Hell on Earth and bringing about the end of world. His apocalypse dreams were shattered, however, when the mystical forces he was attempting to control had backfired, causing the great earthquake of 1937 and trapping the Master in the old church he was in deep underground, like a cork in a bottle.

That hadn't stopped the Master, however. Now, 1997, sixty years later, he was still as powerful, still as charismatic and determined to finish the job and destroy the race of humans forever. His efforts were somewhat hampered, however, by Sunnydale's newest resident: Buffy Summers. Buffy was a small, beautiful, blonde SoCal girl…who also happened to be the Slayer, the Chosen One: the one girl in her generation born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness.

Buffy had already thwarted the Master's attempt to rise once before, on the Hallowed Eve of the Harvest. Thinking about that night and his Vessel, Luke's, failure, still made the Master want to keep this Slayer alive for days while he tortured her. The Master was more than 600 years old, and he had yet to meet a Slayer as dangerous as this one. He was thinking of this now as he spoke aloud.

"Zachary didn't return from the hunt last night," he said, his voice calm, quiet, and controlled. He stood in the midst of the ruins of his former stronghold. They were deep below ground, the old church smashed into a warren of sewer systems. Old, decaying earth mixed with the mildew of dripping water and sewage to form a scent of utter putrefaction strong enough to gag humans by the truckload. To the Master it smelled like the home of his coffin. He took a deep, unneeded breath now, to calm himself.

Collin, the small, four-year-old child, took another small stone from the Master's hand and tossed it into the pool. The Master and his greatest warrior, the Anointed One, were standing by the edge of a mystical pool of blood from which the Master had once raised magicks in a reckless attempt to open the Hellmouth.

"The Slayer," Darla breathed with a hiss of anger. The Master allowed himself comfort from her presence as well.

Darla…his greatest Childe, his favored daughter, the heiress of his kingdom. He had known from the moment he'd first glimpsed her on the streets of that small Virginia town four hundred years ago that she was something special. A woman of strength, of power, a possibility of master and of cruelty that had become a beautiful creature of the night when she had arisen from her grave after he had given her the Eternal Kiss.

"Zachary was strong, and he was careful," the Master continued presently. "And still the Slayer takes him…as she has taken so many of my family." He spoke of the Order of Aurelius, the greatest of all vampire covens, strong, proud and noble, ancient and magical. They followed the great demonic prophesies and served the power of the Old Ones, the pure demons, the true rulers of this world who would once again rule when the Order brought about the apocalypse. "It wears thin," he finished angrily. "Collin, what would you do about it?"

The Anointed One had arisen as foretold in the Book of Prophesy: _And there will be a time of crisis, of worlds hanging in the balance. And in this time shall come the Anointed, the Master's great warrior... The Five will die, and from their ashes the Anointed shall rise. The Brethren of Aurelius shall meet him and usher him to his immortal destiny. ...the Slayer will not know him, will not stop him, and he will lead her into Hell…_

The Master remembered the utter thrill he'd felt when the child/demon had walked calmly into his realm, the delicious sensation of victory when he'd known that his apocalypse was being set into motion, that the Slayer would have no choice but to fall victim to the Anointed One. But that day was far from _now_, and the Master could not but continue attempting to kill her. Such as now, when his rage felt like it was making his cold, dead blood boil with disgusting human life.

"I'd annihilate her," Collin said calmly, his child's voice dripping with evil.

"From the mouths of babes," the Master responded with a smile.

"Let _me_ do it, Master!" Darla said, making her way over to them. She was dressed in a blue Catholic school uniform, giving her gorgeous face an innocent façade that delighted him as much as it repulsed him. Her full lips were curved in a pout as she stared up at him. "Let me kill her for you!"

"You have a personal interest in this," the Master said, flatly denying her request. Slayers were always dangerous, but this Slayer was different from her predecessors, rebelling against the mores of the Watchers' Council and the Slayer Handbook. That made her even more dangerous, and personal vendettas only led to sloppy mistakes even in the oldest of vampires. Luke had gone that way in his pride in his own fighting prowess, and the Master had lost one of his greatest warriors.

"I never get to have any fun," Darla whined, sighing in disappointment. The Master gave her an indulgent smile, but his mind was already whirring. You could never trust your entire life to prophesy; that could lead to never counting on anyone deviating _from_ prophesy. No matter how many wheels had been set in motion to activate his apocalypse, he could never trust that the Slayer would not thwart another of his plans. That made her immediate death an attractive prospect.

And, if his normal warriors had failed…the best would need to be dispatched.

"I will send the Three," he said aloud.

"The _Three_?" Darla asked, her eyes wide and her lush mouth curving into a sultry smile. The Master grinned fiercely. Perhaps this night wouldn't be as bad as he'd thought.

**888**

The Bronze was packed that night, as it usually was. The Bronze was the only large nightclub in Sunnydale, a large building that boasted a bar and a limited food menu, balconies, comfortable seating, a large dance floor, pool tables, and a stage for when the club hosted a band. It had a small cover charge and allowed everyone from the age of thirteen and up in. It was technically in the "bad part of town" but as it was almost always packed with other people and had a very strict policy on no underage drinking parents tended to feel safe about allowing their teenagers to go. The lack of parental control also contributed to the Bronze being unofficially labeled as Sunnydale's very own house of hormones. It usually did a roaring business, but tonight was even better than usual.

Once a year, the Bronze closed for a week for fumigation in order to kill the inevitable cockroaches and rodents that revolved around an enormous building that always had a lot of trash, spilled drinks and food, and restroom facilities' castoff. The night before the Bronze officially closed was held as the annual "Fumigation Party" – no cover charge, and any dead or captured insect earned you a free drink. The club opened the party at five o'clock that night and wouldn't end until two the next morning.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer had never attended the party before, and after patrolling the fresh graves earlier that night Buffy had dusted two new vampires and then grabbed her two best friends, Willow and Xander, and taken off for a well-earned night of partying. Buffy herself was currently dancing, and much to the disgust of Cordelia Chase (Sunnydale High's most popular girl and mortal social enemy of Buffy and all of her associates) the beautiful blonde had a small crowd of guys dancing with her, admiring her moves.

Willow Rosenberg, one of Buffy's best friends, had two cups of Coke in her hands and sat back down at one of the café-style tables that Buffy and her friends had laid claim to earlier that evening. Willow was a shy but pretty girl who was off-the-charts-smart. She had pale, delicate skin, bright red hair, and pretty green eyes. She'd been exiled firmly into loserville due to her mousy shyness and timidity, and her way of dressing like a clichéd nerd. Lately Willow had come out of her shell in a large way thanks to her two best friends, Buffy and Xander.

Speaking of Xander…

Willow jumped when she realized that her friend was sitting next to her, sloshing Coke on her hands. "Xander, I didn't see you!"

Alexander "Xander" Harris was Buffy's other best friend, but he and Willow had been best buds since they were still playing in sandboxes. He was a loud, happy guy who had a racing sense of wit and couldn't seem to stop himself from cracking jokes, often at inopportune moments. This usually led people to think that he wasn't all that smart, especially because he never tried hard enough in school to make more than a C/D average. But anyone who actually knew Xander knew that he was extremely smart in his own way. And Willow knew him better than anyone – she'd been crushing on him since they were 5, anyway.

"Hey!" he said with a small smile. That in itself was worrying. Xander had a very expressive face, and when he actually smiled his whole face lit up. This was one of his "I'm thinking thinky thoughts" faces, and he didn't wear it all that often, just when he was chewing over something; usually something depressing.

"What's up?" Willow asked worriedly.

"Ah, I'm just thinkin'," Xander said with a shrug, taking a sip of his Coke. "You know, didn't really feel like I was wearing my dancing shoes tonight."

"So…we're talking deep thinking?" Willow asked.

"I don't know," Xander said with a shrug. He looked out over the crowd, and Willow thought she saw him looking at Buffy. Xander had a big crush on Buffy, and Willow was caught between feeling sorry at the obvious lack of reciprocation and jealousy.

"So, we're talking about a love type thing?" she asked, trying to keep the sadness out of her voice.

"Not exactly a love thing – I mean, for us to be having a conversation about a love thing there should be a love thing for us to have a conversation about. I mean, Buffy had Owen and half the guys in school, really, and that Angel freak—"

"So, you lack love?"

"I lack love," Xander agreed sadly. "Or any form of romantic entanglement. There is no tangling. Are these words?"

"Xander…" Willow said, unsure of what to say.

"I mean, I don't even know if I've ever really _felt_ something like that," Xander went on, unusually introspective. "That's why that big bug freak—"

"Preying Mantis," Willow tacked on helpfully.

"Thanks," he said dryly.

"Xander, you've got all kinds of—"

"It's okay, Will," Xander said, flashing her a bright smile. "I don't even know what I'm saying. I'm just rambling. You know the guy thing. We don't talk about our feelings. Not that I'm in the guy club. If there's a club. Do you think they have cards? I want a card!"

"What are you guys doing over here?" Buffy asked, flashing up beside them breathlessly. She looked happier than they'd seen her in a while; color in her cheeks and her hair in stylish disarray. "I actually told Cordelia to shut up straight to her face for the first time in a week and it's boosted my boost!" she continued enthusiastically. Xander and Willow both sighed, thoroughly depressed by their conversation, and took swigs of Coke.

"We're sitting here and watching our barren lives pass us by," Willow summarized. Buffy paused and eyed them searchingly.

"Okaaaay…" she said, plopping down, some of the wind out of her sails. "Let's all sit and breathe before we pass out from fun."

"Okay, now I'm infecting you guys, too," Xander declared. He downed his Coke in one big swig and let out an impressive belch. "I'm going home."

"Hey, you OK?" Buffy asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Xander threw his jacket on. "See you guys tomorrow!"

**888**

Angel stood in the shadows under the stairs leading up to the balcony of the Bronze. He'd spent more time in these shadows than he cared to admit. But there was always so much to see at the Bronze, so much of the teeming passions of humanity. Here he could observe the opera that was daily existence for the everyday world. Here he saw love met and loves meeting again, love ending and fights ensuing. Friendships withered or bloomed. Here he could watch, unnoticed, as he saw what he'd been recruited to fight for.

It was more beautiful and precious than any of these humans could know – most of them had no idea how quickly it could end, how absolutely there could be nothing else. Light, love, laughter…_life_. _Everyone takes it for granted, until something takes it away_, he thought morosely. Well, most people – he peered closer at the group of humans he'd come here to see in particular.

Buffy was as beautiful as she always was, and he paused as he looked at her again. He couldn't easily describe his emotions when he saw the Slayer; it took him back to that ethereal moment when he'd first seen her. There was so much of her tied up in his destiny – the battle between good and evil that he'd bee drawn into because of her. Her light, her innocence, despite what she'd been forced to battle, they called to him, brought out his protective nature.

Right now she was with the other ones, her friends. That alone confounded him; that a Slayer would have family and friends was utterly unheard of. He paused as he took them in: the shy redheaded girl and the loud, puppyish boy smiling at the Slayer. Somehow he respected them even more than he respected Buffy. The Slayer had been chosen for her destiny, but those two humans had chosen to help her.

He watched as Buffy gave the boy a hug, and he watched with his brow quirked. The few times that he'd met Xander the boy seemed to have a perpetual smile on his face. Except for when he'd spoken to Angel; for some reason the boy seemed to be very angry with him. Angel wouldn't admit to the slight pang of hurt that he felt whenever the boy snapped at him. He wanted so very much to be accepted by this bright group of humans, to seek his redemption with them. He laughed at himself for a weakling when he thought of this.

Xander broke off and threw his jacket on, heading out of the Bronze without the Slayer. Angel frowned; this was dangerous, especially in Sunnydale. It was hard sometimes to remember that you were only human when your best friend was the Slayer. Angel slipped out of the shadows to follow the boy. Maybe Xander didn't want his help but he could still protect him.

**888**

Xander sighed as he headed out of the Bronze. The night air had a slight chill to it and his thin jacket wasn't doing much to get rid of it. He wound his arms around himself and walked a little faster.

He thought back to the conversation-that-wasn't with Willow and sighed again. Truth was he didn't know why this was bothering him so much. It wasn't like he _never_ got any action (okay, not so much since high school) but it wasn't the horniness that was getting to him so much as…well, Xander was just a relationship kinda guy. You wouldn't know it to listen to him, cuz talking about that stuff was kind of gay, but still.

_And it's not like Buffy's going to notice me any time soon_, he thought, now thoroughly depressed. Definitely time for country music – something of the Patsy Cline oeuvre. What the hell did that word even _mean_, anyway? It's an annoying word. Like French. French is a stupid language.

He rubbed the back of his neck. He'd been feeling eyes on him all night and it was really starting to wig him out. He glanced over his shoulder again as he turned down a side street to cut across to main street which would get him home. Sure, it sounded good in theory, but that was before he saw the big guy who was standing at the end of the alley, watching him calmly, blocking his path. In Sunnydale? This was never a good thing.

"Boy," the big man dude snarled.

"Man," Xander answered, automatic sniping. In reality his legs were knocking together and his hand was clutching the stake in his pocket hard enough to make his fingers ache. _Relax_, Xander told himself firmly. _There are other bad things out there than vampires_…_WAIT, brain! Was that supposed to _relax_ me?!_ Shaking even harder now, Xander contemplated making a break for it before serial killer boy jumped him.

"He is the Slayer's pet," the man in the alley announced. Xander started shaking even worse now. Definitely a vampire; now that he was closer he could see the awful demonic face. What the hell was up with the body armor? This guy looked straight out of a middle ages nightmare and Xander was _not_ appreciating it. "Where is she?"

"Where's _who_?" Xander demanded, backing away…right into the arms of two even larger vamps in medieval junk. "Oh, sh—"

Before he could say anything else a huge fist slammed into the vampire on his left and then an elegant kick dispatched the one on his right and Xander turned and _Angel_ was right there next to him, large and buff and Xander had never been so glad to see _anyone_ else in his life. "Good dogs don't _bite_," Angel snapped, slamming his fist down onto one of Xander's attackers. He grabbed Xander and threw him protectively behind him. "Are you alright?" he asked, his soft brown eyes roving Xander's form.

"Huh?" Xander asked intelligently. Angel smiled softly, and Xander caught a glimpse of white teeth before someone screamed "Look out!" and dropped them both.

Angel covered Xander protectively as Buffy appeared out of nowhere with Willow at her side, wielding a stake. All three vampires flew at her at once. Buffy smashed one with her fist, but it barely fazed him. He smashed her head with one gauntlet-covered fist and she crashed into the wall. Willow ducked out of the way and hid as Buffy leapt to her feet and smashed a foot into one, throwing her stake directly at his heart, but it was covered with armor.

Angel threw himself off of Xander and smashed into one of the vampires, taking it down. The other one that wasn't fighting Buffy threw itself at Angel with an enraged snarl and snagged a bar off of a window, slashing Angel's ribs with a meaty thunk. "Angel!" Xander yelled, and, not taking a moment to think about the stupidity of his actions, he grabbed a big plank and slammed it on the vampire's head.

Angel leapt up and grabbed Xander just as Buffy kicked one away from her and screamed "SPLIT!" She grabbed Willow and ran in one direction, toward her house. Xander grabbed Angel and charged toward his house. The three vampires roared in frustration behind them and Xander heard one split from the other two and follow him and Angel.

"Come on!" Xander yelled, panicked, and sprinted full tilt towards the cracked side street that led to his small house. There was nothing in his head but getting them away from soldier psycho who was gaining on them no matter how heavy that armor had to be. Then there was his house, which looked so welcoming that he thought he might sob in relief. "Get in! Go go go!" he yelled at Angel, and threw himself inside.

Angel crashed in moments later and they slammed the door on the snarling vampire outside. The vamp slammed his fist into Xander's door, which creaked from the impact, and Xander jumped back against the wall in fright. "It's okay," Angel said from beside him, his voice soothing. "Vampires can't come in unless they're invited."

"I've heard that but it's new to watch," Xander panted, realizing that he was still trembling. Angel gently put one of his big hands on Xander's shoulder and Xander shivered. Angel's fingers felt soft and rough at the same time, a very masculine feeling and Xander wondered what they'd feel like somewhere else. _Okay, I'm _way_ stressed,_ he thought with a shiver. _I am _not_ thinking about Angel's hands!_

"Are you okay?" Angel asked, his voice deep and husky, his eyes large, deep, concerned. Xander forced his eyes away from Angel's face and suddenly fastened on the bloody gash in Angel's side.

"Oh, god," he exclaimed, jumping away from Angel's touch. "Get in the kitchen and I'll grab some bandages!" He shoved Angel toward the kitchen, and Angel gave him a strange, indulgent smile as he obeyed the command. Angel's eyes were glittering with something not easily placed. Xander shivered slightly again and then bolted up the stairs. His hands were shaking as he entered the little bathroom and grabbed the old first aid kit. He had a sudden fear that Angel wouldn't like his tiny, beat-up old house, and he felt a twinge of embarrassment at the ramshackle knick knacks and bric-a-brac, the peeling wallpapers and thin walls. _What the hell do I care if _Angel_ likes where I live?_ Xander asked himself.

He set down the stairs slowly. It was good that tonight was bowling night, at the very least; his parents wouldn't be home for hours. He was willing to _really_ bet that Angel wouldn't be all that impressed by his parents drunken-fueled rage sessions. He sighed as he walked into the kitchen and then froze as Angel saw him and unselfconsciously shrugged off his jacket and peeled his white tee-shirt off. _Not that there's anything to _be_ self-conscious about_, Xander thought after a second. Angel was tall and broad-shouldered, his skin pale, with defined pectorals and the rippling of a faint six pack apparent on his stomach. Xander noticed that Angel's nipples were a dark, wine red against Angel's pale skin, and they hardened under his gaze. Angel's eyes still had that strange light in them as he turned slightly away from Xander.

Angel had a tattoo, it turned out, on his right shoulder blade – some fairytale bird thing around a big gothic A. Xander had a sudden inclination to see what it felt like above the rippling back muscles and he shook himself so hard that he almost dropped the box of band-aids. "Nice ink," he said flatly, striding over toward Angel in a businesslike manner.

Angel turned toward him with a slightly questioning smile and Xander ducked his head down. His eyes went past Angel nipples (_nipples of Angel!_) and toward the nasty-looking gash on Angel's side. "Hold still," he said, and dumped some hydrogen peroxide on the wound. Angel didn't move, which was kind of weird and a little cool, too. Xander took some vindictive pleasure in taking away some of that aura of cool that Angel always seemed to have with him like a cloak by putting on some Power Rangers band aids to cover Angel's wound. He looked up to see Angel meeting his grin with a smirk of his own, and then they were both grinning and laughing in some form of pent up relief.

"Thank you for coming along when you did," Xander said after a moment. Angel ducked his head slightly, which was comical considering how much taller than him the other guy was. Xander wondered how old Angel was; the guy couldn't have been much older than 24, if that. "How did you just happen to come along when you did?" Xander asked after a moment. And it was a good question, too; it occurred to Xander that other than the fact that he knew a lot about vampires and the Buffster thought he was hot, he really didn't know anything about Angel.

"Uh…I live nearby," Angel said after a moment. "I was out walking." Xander didn't believe him for one minute, but somehow Angel didn't really seem all that threatening, so maybe he could let that one slide.

"It just seems like you might've been following me," Xander said after a moment. There wasn't a lot to do in his dingy little kitchen except look, and Angel still hadn't put his shirt on, which for some reason was making Xander acutely uncomfortable, and he was always more comfortable with words than with silences. It was hard to interpret silences.

"Why would I do that?" Angel asked, his lips curving upwards into another smirk. Angel smirked a lot, Xander was beginning to notice, but the difference between Angel's smirk and, oh, say, Cordelia's smirk was that Angel didn't seem to be making fun of him, more like laughing _with_ him. It made Xander feel kinda warm. He smirked back at Angel.

"You tell me – you're the big mystery guy that can't seem to talk about anything but the big ookie-spookie," Xander commented. Had Angel stepped closer or was the kitchen always this small?

"Maybe I like you," Angel said, his voice quiet, husky. Xander felt trapped suddenly by the counter, by the lack of space between him and a gorgeous half-naked man – _gorgeous?!_ he thought, panicked, and abruptly tripped and fell flat on his ass. Angel's mouth opened before he started laughing. Xander stared up at him, face red, as Angel just laughed. It was a rusty sort of sound, as if he wasn't used to laughing much at all.

"Thanks," Xander said sarcastically. Angel grinned shamelessly, his white teeth flashing. Xander stood up quickly and handed Angel his shirt back. "Here," he said – well, it looked cold seeing how Angel's nipples looked like _stop yourself right now!_ Xander told his brain sternly. "Mr. Make Me Fall Guy," he said instead, still red in the face.

"Sorry," Angel said softly. His fingers brushed Xander's as he took the shirt and Xander turned toward the sink.

"You want something to drink?" Xander asked quickly. _Cold water cold water cold water_, he chanted to himself as he grabbed a couple of cups out of the old creaky cupboard.

"No, thank you," Angel said quickly. "Er," he said after a moment. Xander turned from the fridge to see Angel standing there awkwardly, still shirtless, holding his shirt – which had a bloody gash in it.

"Whoops," Xander said, embarrassed. "I'll get you something real quick."

"No, really, it's fine; you've already—" Angel began.

"No, I've got to get you something," Xander started, turning around and then making a strangled sort of noise because Angel was somehow right behind him and they almost crashed into each other. "Gah! Make more noises when you walk, you creeper!" Xander yelped.

"Sorry," Angel said again, but he was smiling that stupid smile again which was going a long way toward dissipating Xander's anger already and Xander smiled back and headed up the stairs before he said something embarrassing. Or even _more_ embarrassing. Embarrassinger. Was that even a word? Xander grabbed a stray piece of shirt from the floor and hurried back downstairs where Angel stood, looking awkward. Angel was just so _wrong_ there in the dark, depressing, shabby setting of the Harris house. Xander was suddenly glad with a vengeance that his parents weren't here.

Angel pulled the shirt on with a grateful smile in Xander's direction, and Xander snorted when he realized that he'd given Angel his Mr. Bubbles sleep shirt. It was old and practically see-through, and it made Angel look like his was modeling something because it did nothing to hide his body. Which had been the intention of the shirt, Xander realized belatedly. He told himself sternly to stop his fixation on Angel's nipples, which were still hard and the shirt wasn't doing a thing to hide it. Angel caught him staring as he was shrugging his coat back on, and he gave Xander a quizzical look.

"Nothing," Xander said, blushing.

"I'll give you the shirt back soon," Angel promised as he started towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Xander asked dumbly.

"Home," Angel said.

"But…you _can't_ go now!" Xander declared. He didn't know why he said it, truly; he just didn't want Angel to leave.

"Why?" Angel asked, his brow quirked. That _look_ was coming back into his eyes and Xander ducked his head.

"Because…uh…those freaks could still be out there!" Xander said loudly, blocking Angel's way. "And you're wearing my Mr. Bubbles tee shirt and he just doesn't leave the house; I mean if you got attacked and got blood all over my shirt I'd have to hunt you down and heal you _again_ and—"

"Do you ever breathe?" Angel asked exasperatedly, stopping the babble mid-flow.

"Sometimes," Xander said, going red in the face again.

"So I can't leave because I might get killed or because I might bleed on your shirt?" Angel asked, smiling softly. Xander was starting to like that little smile as much as he really _didn't_ like that smile, which didn't even make sense. Oxymoron, that's what that'd be called. _That's such a stupid word_, Xander thought. "Xander?" Angel asked, smiling wider as he called Xander out of his thoughts.

"Oxymoron is a dumb word," Xander declared flatly, then turned and headed for the stairs.

"What?" Angel asked, confused.

"It is. It's like _exercise_. You say 'exercise' to yourself enough, it makes _no_ sense. Hurry up; it's almost time for the parentals to be home," Xander called over his shoulder. Angel stood in the living room, dumbfounded, for another moment before he hesitantly headed up the stairs.

Xander was already in his room when Angel softly stepped in, shutting the door behind him. Xander was at his closet, staring in. "You're wearing Mr. Bubbles," Xander said morosely as he stared at his closet. "You're gonna have to turn around and check for the fang gang while I throw something else on." Sure, he and Angel were both guys, but it wasn't like he wanted to change in front of him. God knows why. Angel didn't seem to think that it was unusual; he nodded his head politely and headed for the window.

"I don't see them," he reported after a moment.

"Angel, can I ask you a question?" Xander asked. He settled on a white undershirt that had seen better days and a pair of old boxers.

"Sure," Angel said after a moment.

"Why…I mean, really, who are you? Buffy's all Slayer-like; Giles is Watcherly, what's your excuse?"

"Somebody has to," Angel said shortly. He sounded uncomfortable.

"Well, what does your family think?" Xander asked curiously. He really didn't know who Angel was; none of them did. Where did he come from? Xander was filled with an intense curiosity. Who was this guy who popped out of nowhere with the cryptic warnings and the intense looks and the deep, brooding eyes…

"They're dead," Angel said flatly, bringing Xander out of his daze. There wasn't any emotion in his voice at all, but Xander could tell by the tortured hunch of Angel's shoulders that he didn't want to think or talk about this _at all_.

"I'm sorry," Xander said softly. He put his hand on Angel's shoulder, and Angel shuddered slightly before pulling away from the contact, putting distance between them. Xander didn't want that distance there; Angel was a fascination that he wanted to puzzle out and he couldn't seem to leave it alone. "Was it vampires?"

"It was," Angel said, not meeting his eyes. There was a story there, probably a long one, but not one that Xander particularly wanted to know. "It was a long while ago." Xander frowned; there was something about the way Angel talked sometimes, a cadence that didn't sound quite _right_, but he couldn't really put his finger on it and so he shrugged and let it go.

"What about _you_?" Angel asked suddenly, and Xander froze.

"Sorry?" he stuttered.

"You just seem very bent on helping Buffy," Angel said. His eyes were a little hard, somehow darker. Xander didn't like to look at them too much.

"I can't just sit back and do _nothing_," Xander said, backing away slightly.

"No, that's not it," Angel said flatly. He was advancing on Xander somehow, crowding him, and Xander was starting to feel a sort of panic. "What is it about vampires that makes you hate them so much?" There was an odd sort of catch in his voice that Xander didn't care to figure out.

"_Nothing_," Xander said flatly, shoving past him, but Angel suddenly had his big hands, hell, everything _about_ Angel was so big, and he had those hands on Xander's shoulders and they were close enough that Xander felt like he'd be shocked by electricity if they were closer.

"Tell me," Angel said, his eyes boring into Xander's.

"They killed my best friend!" Xander snarled, and jerked away from Angel to collapse on his bed, breathing hard. He was so angry and also so sad that he couldn't see straight and he didn't even notice that Angel had sat down next to him until Angel's hand tentatively took his and Xander found himself staring into Angel's eyes.

"Tell me," Angel said, gently, softly.

"His name was Jesse," Xander said after an eternity. "The very first night that Buffy was here, we were all supposed to meet in the Bronze. I got there late, Willow and Jesse were already there. Buffy showed up and told me that Willow was in trouble…I didn't believe her about the vampire stuff but she looked serious as a heart attack, so I went…

"When we got to the cemetery Willow and Jesse were in a grave thingy with two vamps. Buffy dusted one but the other one got away. Me and Willow got out. Jesse got turned. When he showed up at the Bronze I killed him," Xander finished savagely.

"I'm so sorry, Xander," Angel said quietly. "I had no idea."

"We don't talk about it much," Xander said. "You know, I only have the one bed," he said after a second, cutting off what Angel was about to say and effectively ending the conversation.

"So you'll take it," Angel said, moving away from him.

"No," Xander said, "You're injured. _You're_ taking it."

"I'm not taking your bed, Xander – I've had worse," Angel said.

"And I don't care," Xander said stubbornly. "You saved my _life_, Angel! Take the bed!"

"You patched me up!" Angel said obstinately. "I'm not taking your bed—"

"Yes, you are," Xander said flatly, glaring.

"No," Angel said, glaring right back, and laid himself down on the floor right there.

"Fine!" Xander snapped. He grabbed his pillows off the bed and threw one at Angel, which hit the older man in the face. Angel stared at him incredulously as Xander threw him a blanket, took one for himself, set a pillow down and laid down on the floor right next to Angel.

"You…you—this is ridiculous…" Angel stammered, staring at him.

"Good night," Xander said with a sunny grin in Angel's direction. "You'd better not snore." He laid down on his pillow, threw a blanket over himself, and shut his eyes. Angel was still laying there, staring at him, a strange, confused expression on his face. He heard a deep sigh and the creak of the floor when Angel laid down on the pillow and took a blanket.

"It's been a long time since anyone's been in the position to let me know…if I snore," Angel said quietly. For some reason, Xander held that thought and drifted to sleep with a smile on his face.

**888**

Xander woke up feeling…safe, comforted. He wasn't too sure what else he felt like but he felt too good just now to get up and shut the damn alarm clock off. He felt a gentle intake of breath under his head as the thing went to sleep for a few moments (waiting for round two, which was louder) and jerked his eyes open. Angel had taken his shirt off during the night, laying it gently folded next to the pillow he was using.

Xander's pillow looked untouched, most likely because his sleeping body had decided that spooning Angel was far more comfortable. His head was pillowed on one of Angel's firm pectorals, his arm around Angel's waist like Angel was his favorite teddy bear. Their legs were pretty well tangled. It should have been uncomfortable, really, but it felt…nice. Better than nice. Wonderful. Like he was squeezing a big, beautiful, dangerous teddy bear. For a moment he snuggled in, until he felt Angel twitch underneath him.

He was _spooning_ with a _**guy**_!!!!!

Xander sat straight up and slammed his hand down on the 'off' switch of his stupid alarm clock. He couldn't bear to meet Angel's eyes; he knew that Angel was awake but he didn't feel like dealing with that right now. Didn't feel like dealing with a lot of things right now, and denial was just a river in Egypt that Xander was going to happily swim a few rounds in. For a good, long time.

He couldn't help himself from turning at the door, to see Angel. The other man lay on his back, his chest rising and falling, every muscle sharply defined. His beautiful face was turned toward Xander and Xander sighed as something indefinable but sharp, painful and somehow as beautiful as hell slammed into his stomach when Angel smiled a sleepy smile in his direction and said "Good morning."

"Morning," Xander forced out, turned and fled to the safety of the bathroom. _What the hell is _wrong _with me_?! he thought frantically. His whole body was shivering but not in cold or in fear, more a tingling that was building up from the base of his spine that seemed to be excitement. He jumped and yelled as a fist pounded on the door.

"Are you up yet?" his mom yelled in.

"Yeah!" he yelled, trying to get his heartbeat down.

"Good! I'm making coffee!" she yelled right back and started her usual morning slump down the stairs. There must have been quite a bender at the bowling alley last night; he'd have to see if the car was alright. He assumed that a morning wouldn't go normally at the Harris household if a car crash or vehicular manslaughter had occurred the night before.

_Angel's in my bedroom!_ he thought suddenly. Shit! He bolted out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut in record time. Angel stared up at him curiously. "Hi," Xander said weakly. He didn't want to think about how good Angel looked as he lay there in a tangle of bedsheets, shirtless and rumpled, his eyes like warm black coffee as they lingered on Xander. His lush lips curved up in that little smirk that Xander liked/_didn't like_ and Xander thought frantically that it should be impossible for a person to look _that_ good _that _early in the morning.

Morning…that meant that Angel would leave. Xander didn't want Angel to leave, anymore than he had last night, even though he couldn't explain the feeling at all. "How are you feeling?" he asked, gesturing at Angel's gash that was still covered in Power Rangers band-aids.

"Oh, it's fine," Angel said dismissively. He sat up and stretched and Xander watched in fascination as Angel's well-defined muscles stretched with him, his pale skin so apparent in the daylight streaming in through Xander's blinds. It made his nipples even darker than they were _and will you _stop_ fixating on Angel's nipples?!_ Xander told himself hysterically.

"Yeah, but you're wounded, and you can't leave now," Xander said decisively.

"Xander—"

"No, really! I'm not gonna let you outta here until I'm sure that I've saved your ass because you saved mine! That's just the way that it works! So sit down!" Angel hesitantly sat back down, eyeing Xander with that smirk of his that made Xander smile back but then he turned away because he had a feeling that Angel was about to argue and he didn't want to be swayed. He wouldn't be swayed by coffee-eyes. Not one bit.

"Thank you," Angel said softly. Xander turned from his closet to see Angel regarding him from under his lashes. He looked…almost sad, like he couldn't quite figure out why Xander was doing this. _Hell, neither can I,_ Xander thought with a smirk of his own.

"Don't worry about it," Xander said firmly, and was rewarded with a big Angel-smile with the white teeth and the lips and Xander's legs went a little weak but he ignored that and threw a pair of pants on because apparently he was getting his usual morning wood and it would _not_ be good to show that to Angel because maybe Angel would get the wrong idea and think that it was for _him_ and it so totally _wasn't_ because Angel was a _guy_ and that would be _wrong_. Xander tossed a button-up on over his sleep shirt and grabbed his backpack from where he'd tossed it after school yesterday.

"I'll be back from school when I can," Xander said. "Um…try to not tell my parents that you're here?" he suggested as an afterthought. Not that he thought that his parents wouldn't be cool with the fact that a random friend had stayed the night, more that he didn't want Angel to meet his drunken parents and he _didn't_ want to see pity in Angel's eyes. _Friend_, he thought suddenly. He'd thought of Angel as a friend.

"I'll do what I can," Angel said with a grin.

"Okay," Xander said. He gave Angel his best 'I'm thinking nothing' grin and hurried out of the bedroom even though a large part of him wanted to stay. He didn't know why _yes you do_, said a nasty little voice in his mind. _Shut up, brain!_ Xander said to himself flatly. And he _didn't_ know, so _there_.

Feeling none too relieved, or sure of his own thoughts, Xander shut his door and headed out to school.

**888**

"Oh my God Xander!" he heard before Buffy and Willow practically clotheslined him when they gave him a hug. He thought he heard his back pop when Buffy hugged him but he couldn't be sure because she was squeezing the air out of him.

"Hi," he said weakly as he hit solid earth again.

"We were _so_ worried about you!" Buffy said as they stepped back.

"Well, I'm fine. Angel saved my neck," Xander said after a moment. Blushing. Why was he _blushing_?

"Is he okay?" Willow asked.

"Yeah – I gave him first aid," Xander said. "He's staying at my house today."

"Where did he sleep last night?" Buffy asked curiously.

"Well, there was this thing and we were on the floor so—"

"We?" Willow asked, her eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, so?" Xander said defensively. Buffy and Willow exchanged meaningful looks.

"Nothing," Buffy said after a moment, eyeing Xander in a way that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable.

"_What?_" he snapped, irritably.

"Nothing," Buffy and Willow said at the same time, exchanging that stupid mysterious girl smile. "Let's head to the library," Buffy said before he could say anything else, and they steered him away before he could say anything else.

**888**

Rupert Giles was Buffy's Watcher, a member of the mysterious Watcher's Council, located in Britain. The Watchers had been around since the first Slayer, and the Watcher trained the Slayer and prepared her for whatever fights she may or may not have. Giles was like an encyclopedia with arms; he had been working for the British Museum before he'd been called to be Buffy's Watcher and now worked as the Sunnydale High School librarian.

The library was where the Scooby Gang, as Xander called them, spent most of their time – hanging out or researching the latest creature feature of the Hellmouth. Giles was sitting at the main table, surrounded by books, when they all walked in. "Are you all alright?" he asked as soon as they all walked in. Xander felt a rush of warmth like he always did; Giles was like a sort of uncle to all of them. He worried about them, which was a nice difference from his day to day life.

"Yeah, it's cool," Xander said, plopping down at the table. Willow sat next to him and Buffy moved across the table to sit next to Giles. "Angel popped out of nowhere and saved my butt last night." Buffy and Willow caught each others' gazes and burst into a fit of giggles. "_What?!_" Xander asked exasperatedly. "It's not funny! I was almost vampire kibble!"

"Sorry, Xan," Buffy said. "So, how'd you get Angel's shirt off last night?" Her voice was _way_ too innocent.

"Well, there was first-aid involved…" he said uneasily.

"I'm sure there was," Willow said, smiling just like Buffy.

"Well, not when you guys make it sound all _dirty_ like that," Xander said. "This isn't that big of a joke! Angel saved my butt so I saved his. End of story. You guys make it sound like you think I have a crush on him." Xander blushed furiously as soon as he said it. _Why am I blushing?!_ he thought angrily. He'd blushed enough last night, he thought, and that brought back pictures of Angel with his shirt off. _Stupid body!_ he thought to himself angrily.

"Can we perhaps steer this riveting conversation back to the vampires?" Giles asked tiredly, cleaning his glasses. Giles tended to clean his glasses a lot, particularly when he was either frustrated or talking to a teenager. Maybe that always went hand in hand. Jeeze. "You left the Bronze last night and were set upon by three large, unusually strong vampires?" Giles went on.

"Yeah. I think they were going to use me as bait in a big Slayer-trap," Xander said.

"I think that was a safe assumption. You were very lucky that Angel showed up when he did," Giles said baldly. "Was this them?" He held up an illustration in the book that Buffy had originally found the Order of Aurelius in – the Master's vampire cult thing, if Xander remembered right. Right there was a picture of the three nutjobs from last night, complete with their weird armor costumes.

"Yeah, that's them," Buffy said. "What's with the costumes?"

"You were attacked last night by 'The Three,' an ancient warrior sect of vampires – very proud and _very_ strong."

"How is it you always know this stuff?" Willow asked, staring up at Giles admiringly. "You always know what's going on – I never know what's going on."

"Well, you weren't here from midnight until six this morning researching it," Giles commented.

"No, I was sleeping," Willow said sheepishly.

"You're obviously hurting the Master very much," Giles told Buffy proudly. "He wouldn't send the Three after just anybody. We must step up our training with weapons."

"Party," Buffy commented, sitting back down. "Are we all okay? I mean, since we all got away."

"What?"

"Will there be a revenge scenario?" Xander interpreted.

"Yeah, because I kind of kicked one of them in the family jewels to get Willow and I away fast enough. Those guys were seriously tough and seriously pissed," Buffy recounted. "I'm not gonna look forward to throwing down again unless…hey, can I get a sword?" she asked excitedly, jumping up.

"You're _way_ too excited about that," Xander decided.

"You should probably be more concerned, seeing as how Angel's still at your house right now…in your bedroom – probably in your bed," Buffy said with that curious inside joke look at Willow.

"Not _in_ my bed, _by_ my bed," Xander said, aggrieved.

"Well, none of you are in immediate danger," Giles cut in. "The Three, having failed, will now follow the ritual through and offer their lives to the Master in penance."

**888**

The largest of the Three, an ancient assassin before he was turned, held an old, ritual spear out to the Master as he knelt beside his brethren. "We failed in our duty, and now our lives belong to you."

They knelt before the Master, and on his right side stood the Anointed One, and on the Master's left stood Darla. Glancing at the Master, Darla casually took the spear out of the assassin's hands and sauntered away. The Master regarded his failed warriors with his face void of expression.

"Pay attention, child," the Master said, crouching down next to the Anointed One. "You are the Anointed, and there is much you must learn. With power comes responsibility. True, they did fail, but also true, we who walk at night share a common bond. The taking of a life – I'm not talking about humans, of course – is a serious matter."

"So you would spare them?" the Anointed asked.

The Master paused, and hung his head. For a moment he allowed the weight of his mantle to fall on his shoulders. His rage boiled over and he wanted something young and human beneath his hands to feel the crack as he snapped its bones and fed on its blood. He pictured the Slayer's death and did not feel calmer. Instead he turned and raised his blood-red eyes to Darla.

"I am weary, child, and their deaths will bring me little joy." Her entire face lit up with demonic joy as she raised the spear and plunged it deep into the first of the Three's heart. The demon had a moment to raise his head in shock and pain before he exploded into ancient ash and graveyard dust. "Of course, sometimes a little joy is enough," he commented offhandedly to the Anointed One as he walked away without a backward glance.

Behind him, Darla slaughtered the next.

**888**

Xander slowly walked home as the sun was setting. He hated winter; the days were short and it made him want to stay home, even though home…well, sucked. He hurried up his walk as he glanced around him. Sunset in Sunnydale was always a good time to heading inside. You never knew what could be lurking out there in the dark.

Xander opened the door and dropped his backpack by the phone. He heard his parents in the kitchen and sighed before he headed in. "Hey, Xander," his mother said absently as she searched through the freezer for a microwave meal.

"Hi, Mom," Xander said quietly. His dad had his head in his hands on the table, and whether or not the bills were giving him a headache or the hangover from last night was currently torturing him, but Xander had learned early that it was never a great idea to disturb his father when he had a headache. "We ran out of the stuff last night. I left you a note."

"It's okay, I'll call for some pizza," she said, sitting down.

"You guys win?" Xander asked as he grabbed some old leftovers from the fridge and popped them in the microwave. Thank god for tupperware, he thought, because they were pretty plateless.

"Nah," she said as she lit up a cigarette.

"Would you two shut up?" Tony Harris snapped. "You're eating _again_? What the hell else do you _do_? Why don't you try to do some homework for _once_ and get the hell out of here while I figure out how to feed your worthless ass?"

"Sorry, Dad," Xander said quietly, grabbed the tupperware out of the microwave and hurried out of the kitchen. He wasn't hungry but Angel might be.

**888**

Angel sat very still next to Xander's bed and thought the same worthless, circling thoughts that he'd been thinking all day. Either way he came to the same conclusion – he was screwed, in a big way. His nose was filled with the scent of Xander and he wanted it gone, wanted it out, but it wasn't going to be that easy.

Xander wasn't just in his nose, he was everywhere. Angel thunked his head against the wall behind him in self-disgust. Who the hell was he kidding? He wanted Xander to _like_ him and that was unacceptable. How old was he? Xander was only 16 years old! And he didn't have a clue who Angel really was, and if he did? He'd either be running out the door or he'd try to kill him.

He had to consider those choices because they were the choices that Xander would make. It didn't matter that Xander had been staring at him, the arousal obvious in his eyes and in his scent. It didn't matter that he'd been awake for nearly the entire night as Xander's sleeping body wrapped itself around his. He'd never lain down with _anyone_ who put off as much sheer body heat as Xander did; it was lying down with a heater.

It had been heaven.

Xander looked at him like he was normal, not like he was a hero or a mystery man the way that Buffy did. And wasn't he supposed to be thinking about Buffy? But he wasn't. All he was thinking of was Xander's brilliant smile, his laughter, his hesitant, shy glances at Angel's naked chest—_stop that right now_, Angel told himself sternly.

There was only one thing to do – not see Xander again. That would be easy enough. He'd thank him for taking care of him for a night and then he'd leave, vanish the way that he'd gotten so good at vanishing and only appear if Buffy or her friends really, truly needed his help.

At least, that was what he'd thought, but when he'd heard Xander come home, heard the careless words his father had thrown at him, he'd felt himself filled with a possessiveness he hadn't felt since…since the _bad_ time, the time that he never allowed himself to think of. Who was that bastard that could say such things to a boy who was clearly sweet and gentle, kind and loving, who stuck up for people and would give his own life to protect his friends' if the occasion called for it and nearly had on multiple occasions?

All he wanted was to hold Xander and tell him that it was alright. But that was a crazy, ridiculous thought. Angel wasn't worthy of him, anyway. It was time to get out of here and out of this before either of them took a step further, because Xander might not be able to tell what his body was telling Angel with every gesture and meeting of eyes, but Angel knew, and he couldn't afford to do this to either of them.

That was before Xander walked in, his large, beautiful brown eyes hurt but welcoming as he took Angel in and held out his offering of food. He had still brought food up for _him_, had given his bed up for _him_, had done these things for him and Angel knew that he really was screwed in every sense.

**888**

Angel had a strange light in his eyes when Xander entered the room, a strange way that he was looking at Xander himself and Xander felt a shiver crawl up his spine, a pleasurable sort of tingling. He fiercely attempted to ignore this, and stepped forward with the tupperware. "I brought you some dinner before you headed out," he said. "It's a little…uh, plateless – sorry," he apologized, suddenly embarrassed that Angel had had to stay in his house, had had to listen to his father…

"Thank you," Angel said, his voice husky.

"No big," Xander said, a little uneasily.

"Really, Xander – thank you, for everything." Angel smiled at him warmly and Xander smiled back. "Are you…um, okay?" Angel asked.

"Why?" Xander asked.

"I mean, with…with your father and everything…" Angel trailed off awkwardly.

"Oh, it's fine," Xander said, blushing. He couldn't meet Angel's eyes. "It's great, I mean he just has a headache…" he trailed off because Angel's hand was gently tracing the outline of his cheek, Angel's fingers were cool and made his skin tingle and they were huge hands, rough hands, masculine hands, and they sent a frisson of excitement through Xander's veins that he couldn't easily explain.

"I'm sorry," Angel said again. His eyes were very dark and Xander couldn't guess at the emotion there.

"It's…fine," Xander said again, fighting the urge to lean into Angel's hand. Angel slowly drew his fingers away and Xander leaned back. He wasn't freaking out, strangely enough. He was just…there was Angel, and he knew that _something_ was happening here, but he wasn't sure what. All he knew was that he wanted it, badly.

"Look, Xander…I really…I just can't…I've gotta go," Angel said after a moment, stepping back from him.

"Huh?" Xander said stupidly, as disappointment coursed through him. _Of course_, he thought to himself. _What was I expecting? He and Buffy…god, I'm such a stupid idiot_. "Oh, you know, it's fine – water over the bridge, uh, under the bridge and all that, I mean I'm sure you and Buffy—"

"_No_, Xander," Angel said strongly, and their eyes connected and Xander was suddenly frozen to the spot as Angel walked toward him, intent in his eyes, his hand on Xander's face again, electricity bursting through them, fire flickering as he was pulled closer until he could smell Angel's strangely attractive breath and Angel was just leaning over him, larger than life. "I have to leave because when I'm around you all I can think is how badly I want to _kiss _you."

Xander stood frozen, unsure of what he'd heard. "Kiss me?" he asked, after a long pause.

"Look…I'm older than you, and this can't…" Angel seemed caught, he was trembling himself. He couldn't seem to decide whether he wanted to pull Xander closer or shove him away and then Xander was stepping closer, until he could _feel_ that magnetic pull of _Angel_ on him, thrumming him closer, connecting them until their eyes couldn't look away from each other…

"How much older?" Xander asked quietly, breaking the tense silence.

"Xander—" Angel started helplessly, then he cursed viciously and pulled Xander into him and their lips connected and they were _kissing_ and for some reason it felt so _right_, so _good_ that all Xander could do was stand there.

It was hesitant at first, a brush of lips almost like testing. Angel's lips were cool and Xander felt his lips tingling as they exerting gentle pressure on Xander's mouth. The tingle built up in his lips, his spine, until his whole body was buzzing with pleasure as Angel's arms wrapped around him. He fit right in to Angel's body and it thrilled him with excitement as their lips met, again and again.

Xander tentatively put his arms around Angel's thick neck; he didn't know what he was doing at the same time that he knew exactly what he was doing. Angel was deepening the kiss, their lips meeting more firmly and Xander's mouth was opening. He gasped when Angel's thick, cool tongue was suddenly boldly sweeping his lips and Xander helplessly opened his mouth to grant it interest.

He'd never done this with _anyone_ before; it felt amazing as Angel's tongue boldly and lazily explored his mouth, massaging his tongue and Xander felt himself moan deeply into Angel's mouth as they melded together, perfectly in sync. Angel's hands were rough as they held Xander closer and Xander was gasping for breath and hard in his pants and feeling a corresponding hardness in Angel's pants and he was caught up in a whirlwind of feeling and emotion, caught up in the most powerful _feeling_ he'd ever known.

Angel's lips were rougher, his tongue plundering Xander's mouth, demanding submission and Xander was giving it to him and more, attacking Angel's mouth with his own, sucking Angel's tongue hard into his mouth and they were holding each other closer and closer and rougher and rougher, Angel seemed to like it as he growled his approval and everything was spinning in Xander's head—

He felt himself forcibly thrown away as Angel spun away from him, panting hard, trembling. Xander, dazed slumped against a wall, his swollen lips still tingling, his entire body buzzing. He'd never been kissed like that before but if this was what it felt like to kiss a guy then he…whoah, boy.

"What's wrong?" he asked giddily, because Angel still wasn't looking at him, was shaking, and Xander suddenly wondered if it had felt to Angel the way that it had felt to him. Had he done it wrong? Was Angel regretting what they'd done? Was he _that_ bad? He took a shaky step toward him…

…when Angel turned around in a dizzying display of speed and Xander froze, shocked, horrified, hurt, betrayed as Angel's true, vicious, demonic _vampire_ face rippled to the fore. He roared viciously at Xander before he launched himself out of the open window, vanishing into the night beyond.

Xander slumped slowly to the floor, his entire body shaking, and he stayed there for a very long time.

**888**

Angel's feet hit the street and he was running, running as fast as he could, the speed of his passage making him blurry, frightening away the rodents and insects from the back alleys of Sunnydale. He ran as fast as he could, his speed enhanced by his demon's power, a vampire on the hunt. He felt self-disgust so strong that if his human body could still vomit it already would have.

Vampire. Demon. No matter how hard he ran, no matter how much he wanted to, he'd never escape this. Xander! So innocent, so beautiful, so full of light! He'd never be worthy of such a thing; Angel was a _creature_, not worth touching, bad bad _bad_! He'd wanted so badly to _bite_ Xander, so much that it was _pain_ to kiss that lovely mouth, and Xander had erupted in _passion_ and he hadn't been kissed like that in _so_ long…

Angel slammed his way into the cemeteries, pulled out a stake. He hated himself in that moment with a violent loathing so powerful that the stake almost shattered in his hands. He pitied the poor fledgling vampire that he would kill that night. Its pain would be immense.

But no matter how hard he fought or how fast he ran he would never be able to erase that image of Xander, the look on his face as he saw what and who Angel was at last.

**A/N**: I'd just like to take the time here to say, I did include the song "Decode" on this because I'm a Paramore fan and I thought the song really fit this fic. I LOVE THE TWILIGHT BOOKS **BUT I HATED HATED **_**HATED**_ the movie! The soundtrack was actually fairly good, so I got that, and I listened to both "Decode" and "I Caught Myself" by Paramore while writing this. Just to clear that up.


	2. Chapter 2: Inconsolable

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

_Fire & Ice_

Chapter 2

_Inconsolable_

"I say, Xander, are you alright?" Giles asked, concerned.

"Huh?" Xander asked, shaken out of his reverie. The Scoobies had met in the library that morning for a strategic planning session. Now that Buffy was busy studying weaponry Giles had Xander and Willow helping him research the various baddies that the Master might have up his sleeve to throw at the Slayer.

Xander had shown up to school late and hadn't said more than two words to any of them all morning. He knew that they were worried about him but he couldn't stop himself from wanting to crawl back into bed and die. He worried at the thought of Angel like a dog with a rat. Should he tell Buffy? _Could_ he? The only reason that Xander even knew that Angel was a vampire was because…

Well, they'd _kissed_, Xander had _kissed_ a _guy_, and how do you even process that? He felt…strange, like his body had betrayed him. Hadn't he been attracted to girls all his life? Didn't thinking of Buffy naked turn him on? But thinking of Buffy had nothing compared to the memory of his kiss with Angel. It had been _more_ than incredible, it had felt like…he couldn't even find words to describe it!

He felt like howling with frustration. He wasn't…_gay_! He didn't talk like a girl or wear stupid clothes or think about…god! What the hell was wrong with him? He felt horrible, he felt betrayed and duped. He couldn't think about the gay angle…(_not gay not gay not gay not gay_) Angel was a friggin' _vampire_! A VAMPIRE! He'd made out with a VAMPIRE! Angel had been playing with them all from the start! What the hell was this thing's game?

Xander felt an incredible hurt that he didn't want to feel. He'd told Angel about _Jesse_, that personal _hell_ that he was still going through, Angel had made him tell it and then played with him! Turned him gay, that's what Angel tried to do!

Xander was filled with so much swirling emotion that he thought his head would explode. He wasn't gay. Not gay. _A flash of memory, stealing Willow's Barbies when he was a child, his father so angry, his mother not caring, the belt falling "I didn't raise no fag!"_ Xander flinched in pain as he remembered that stupid, awkwardly caring expression on Angel's face _"Are you okay?" he asked, gently holding Xander's face like Xander was something that _mattered_ and all Xander wanted was to melt_…and suddenly he felt like bursting into tears.

Instead he threw his book down on the table hard enough to make everyone jump half out of their skins and yelled "I'm _fine_!" at Giles before he buried his head in his hands and collapsed, shaking.

"Oh my God, Xander!" Willow cried, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Will, nothing's wrong, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Xander said miserably.

"Are you okay?" Buffy's voice was close and Xander lifted his head to see her crouching by him, her eyes warm and concerned. Willow was sitting next to him and Giles was leaning over him as well.

"Sorry," Xander said again, embarrassed. He ashamedly refused to meet Giles' eyes, trying to apologize. He always tried to apologize, but it was never good enough.

"What's wrong, Xander?" Buffy asked again, her hand strong on his arm. Strong and comforting, just like Angel's hands…

"Angel's a vampire," Xander said flatly, and suddenly that was it, like air let out of a balloon, and he felt like poison was getting sucked out of him, like he didn't have to shoulder this burden anymore because Buffy was strong enough to shoulder it with him, and Giles and Willow too.

"_What?!_" Buffy gasped, jerking back from him.

"Angel's a _vampire_?!" Willow yelped, shocked.

"Good lord, Xander, are you alright?" Giles asked, alarmed, grabbing Xander's shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine…I guess," Xander said.

"Are you sure?" Buffy asked after a shocked pause. He gave her a droll stare and she couldn't help but smiling. "Sorry, stupid question, I guess." They shared a smile but the smile faded quickly.

"Yup – big growly demon face, fangs, the whole nine yards," Xander confirmed anyway.

"Well…what happened? I mean…well, what happened?" Buffy asked, flummoxed.

This was the part that he'd been dreading, the explaining. He didn't want to.

"Well, it just sort of came out and then he jumped out my window. I stayed up all night last night with a cross and a stake and a bottle of holy water," Xander said, avoiding. Clearly that wasn't going to work.

"You invited him into your home when you both were alone, let him stay with you all night, left your parents alone with him during the day and he only now revealed that he was a vampire?" Giles said skeptically.

"Yes," Xander said flatly.

"Xander," Willow began hesitantly.

"Look, let's just deal with the fact that he's an undead _fiend_, okay?" Xander cut her off. "I don't wanna talk about this right now—"

"Well, did you two get in a fight? Because if he's targeted you…" Buffy began worriedly.

"It could be to get at you, I know. So let's deal with this, okay?" Xander said frantically.

"No, Buffy's right, Xander," Giles said. "Some vampires are very particular about certain things that would make targeting one specific person more desirable than the other – you could be in particular danger. What exactly happened?"

"Nothing _happened_, okay?" Xander snapped. "He's a vampire and he's clearly after Buffy, so let's talk about that!"

"Xander…" Buffy began.

"No, okay?" Xander said desperately.

"What could have happened – did he _bite_ you?" Giles demanded, reaching for his shirt.

"I _kissed_ him, okay?!" Xander exploded, shocking the library into silence. "I _kissed_ him and then he flipped out and went vamp and jumped out my window! I kissed him!" And he promptly jumped up and turned away from them. He didn't want to see it in their eyes; he waited for the first joke to come.

"Oh, Xander," Buffy said from behind him. "Did you think that we'd _care_?"

"I'm not gay!" he whispered frantically. "I'm not!"

"Okay," Buffy said, backing off. Xander turned around and saw that Willow was bright red and refusing to meet his gaze. Feeling horrible, he didn't want to see Giles' and Buffy's reactions, so he sat down and looked at an old book.

"Xander, you have _nothing_ to be ashamed of," Giles said firmly, and Xander turned to see Giles standing next to him, gently squeezing his shoulder. Xander nodded, trembling, but he didn't say anything. "So…the two of you kissed and then his true vampiric visage came to the fore?"

"Huh?" Buffy asked from next to them.

"His grr face," Willow translated, her voice small and kind of odd sounding. Xander and Willow still weren't looking at each other.

"Oh, right," Buffy said sheepishly.

"Yeah," Xander said dully.

"And until then he behaved like a human being?" Giles continued. "Curious."

"Not curious – _weird_," Buffy opined. "I mean, if he's part of the Master's plan, it's a pretty lame plan. Angel's the reason that we knew that the Harvest was going on in the first place. The Master would already have ended the world if I hadn't dusted that Luke creep that night – not to mention Claw Guy. This just doesn't track."

"Buffy, not all vampires in Sunnydale are under the control of the Master – this Angel could be making a power play for control of the Hellmouth," Giles said, sounding suddenly very tired.

"And a Slayer head mounted on the wall is a pretty good way of doing that," Buffy said, her voice strained.

"Well…erm, yes," Giles said uncomfortably.

"Can't a vampire ever be a good person? Couldn't it happen?" Xander found himself asking. He was disgusted with himself for the weakness in his voice, for the hope in his heart that Giles would say 'yes' and…_and what?_ he asked himself miserably.

"A vampire isn't a person at all," Giles said, as gently as he could. Xander didn't look at him, didn't want to see the pity in his eyes. "It may have the movements, the memories, even the personality of the person that it took over, but a vampire is still a demon at the core. There is no halfway." Xander flinched at the finality in Giles' voice and Buffy took his hand gently.

"So that'd be a 'no,' huh?" Willow said harshly.

"Willow," Buffy hissed at her, but Willow was looking at Giles determinedly and wouldn't look at Xander or Buffy.

"I don't know what we're discussing," she continued flatly. "Angel is a vampire who tricked Xander and is probably trying to kill Buffy. Buffy's the Slayer, Angel's a vampire. I think it's pretty clear what she has to do." She wouldn't look at Buffy as Buffy stared at Willow in shock. Willow was looking down and her face was red, her eyes hurt. Xander looked away and hung his head, feeling lower than dirt.

"Well…it _is_ a Slayer's duty," Giles said after a moment, his voice still gentle, his grip on Xander's shoulder still firm.

"I mean, it's not like Xander's _in love_ with _him_," Willow said, her voice still brittle and vicious. Xander stood up abruptly.

"Yeah, right," he agreed, shaking his head rapidly. "Good staking, that's what it needs." He threw his jacket on and grabbed his backpack.

"Xander…" Buffy started, but he vigorously shook his head.

"It's great, Buff. I mean, _some_ of us need to attend some classes this week," Xander threw over his shoulder. Before anyone could say anything he was out of the library doors and running through the flow of students as he headed outside. He didn't know where he was going but all he knew was that he wanted to be gone.

**888**

Angel walked slowly down the stairs leading to his basement apartment. It was a small, sleazy place deep in the heart of downtown Sunnydale, close to the 'bad part of town' but still close enough to the city that he could be conveniently located in case anyone needed his help. Or if he needed to get away from a demon he was fighting – if you didn't know his apartment building it could be hard to find it.

It was also private – he had thick, concrete walls that weren't comfortable but effectively soundproofed him…and blocked the sunlight out from his apartment. He flinched at the thought but he needed to confront it. He should never have tried to forget it in those inexcusable moments with Xander. _Lush, plump lips pressed against his, so hot, so _alive_, Xander's warmth, inviting him in, forgiving him, big puppy eyes filling with hurt and betrayal and confusion as he couldn't fight away his true face, his demon surging forward to bite and drink the luscious blood_ – Angel shivered in self-loathing and rested his forehead on the cold, unfeeling concrete wall as he shoved his key in the lock.

He liked his apartment – it was functional and he had been able to find books, statues, small stuff that made it seem more like a home, something he hadn't tried to find in fifty years. He turned a small lamp on – vampires didn't need much light to see – and sighed as he shrugged his jacket off. He felt a surge of sadness that he hadn't at least put one of Xander's shirts on to keep the scent but shivered in revulsion at the pathetic thought.

No, he'd keep far away from Xander – _there's someone behind me_.

"Who's there?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous, a growl slipping in behind it. He scented the air and froze in shock, in horror, in a million emotions that he couldn't process beyond pain and pleasure mixed together into…_something_. It couldn't be _her_.

"A friend," the familiar, sultry voice whispered from the shadows, and it was like a knife through his cold, unbeating heart.

"Darla," he whispered quietly. Darla. Her. She. His Sire, his lover, his wife, his mother, his _everything_ that he had been and could have been for more than a _century_ and god how could mortals _live_ through this agony that was love?

"Hi – it's been awhile," she said as she stepped out of the shadows. His eyes roved over her form hungrily. Darla was just as he remembered – tall, statuesque, her body perfectly formed, her long, soft blonde hair tumbling down to her shoulders. Her skin was pale and it matched her icy blue eyes. Her large breasts pressed against the confines of the sweater she was wearing, emphasizing the slenderness of her waists, her long, shapely legs.

"A lifetime," he whispered hungrily.

"Or two, but who's counting?" she tossed out with a grin. Her white teeth were displayed by her thick, luscious red lips and in his memory she was kissing him, her fangs biting at his tongue, her hair riled by their sex, bleeding from his bites, her legs wrapped around him—

"What's with the Catholic schoolgirl look?" Angel asked, wrenching himself away from the old memories, the old pain. "Last time I saw you it was kimonos." He knew that the bitterness and pain were apparent in his voice and he didn't care. He didn't know what the hell she was doing here but he was desperately telling himself that he couldn't care less.

She'd _abandoned_ him after…he refused to think about it, refused to display weakness in front of her. He was no longer the sick vampire that couldn't take care of himself. He'd trained, he'd regained his strength, and if she'd come here for a fight then he'd give it to her and more.

"And the last time I saw _you_, it wasn't high school boys," she returned, her smile just as cutting as his. He froze – what did she know about Xander? "Doncha like?" she asked, imitating a valley girl as she flipped her skirt at him. He sneered at her and made to turn away, and she snorted as she sashayed toward him, aware that he was watching her every move and equally aware that he was hating himself for it.

"You remember Budapest?" she asked suddenly, her voice sultry and seductive as her hands traced down his chest. He couldn't force himself to move away from her; instead he leaned closer – despite how long it'd been since he had seen her, his Sire still held her control over him. "Turn of the century…you were such a bad boy during that earthquake…" she smiled up at him, leaning in, her lips so close…so achingly close…

"You did some damage yourself," he muttered. Their lips almost met…she smirked at him, fully aware of what she was doing to him, and sauntered away.

"Is there anything better than a natural disaster?" she asked over her shoulder. "The panic…the people lost in the streets – like picking fruit off the vine." Her voice was goading him to remember, remember _running through the streets like the demon he was, delighting in his power and mastery, the blood flowing around him, human blood so hot and amazing, Darla with him, the panic and fear spicing the blood and they'd made love in the streets, wild and hot and bloody next to a pile of corpses_ – he forcibly suppressed the memories, fighting his demon back as hard as he could, fighting to not shake in front of her.

"Nice," she commented as she looked at the small bed in the corner, the silk sheets and feathered pillows that he had allowed himself. "You're living above ground, like one of _them_." Her voice changed suddenly, harsh, cold, and angry. "You and your little _friend_ are attacking us, like one of _them_." She turned around and her face was holding a bitter smile. "But guess what, precious? You're _not_ one of them." Before he could say anything she turned around and snagged the pulley for the thick metal slats on his windows that blocked the sun.

He roared in pain and threw himself backward, blocking his eyes from the deadly rays. He'd managed to get away in time to stop himself from being burned, but only barely. "Are you?" Darla asked in her stupid little-girl voice that was just making him angrier and angrier. She had abandoned him, thrown him out, torn out his heart and stomped it into dirt and now she was what, blaming _him_?

"No – but I'm not exactly one of _you_ either," he snarled. She flinched for a moment but then her face became carefully blank again. Darla was clearly reminding herself of her original purpose; she didn't look at him as she sauntered away from the window. He hated her suddenly just as much as he loved her, as much as he wanted her body he wanted to ram a stake through it too. He turned away from her backed away from the sunlight.

"Is that what you're telling yourself these days?" She threw open the refrigerator door hard enough for it to bang off the wall, draw all the attention to the insides…where there was nothing but butcher's shop plastic bags of animal blood, some more blood in empty water bottles for quick consumption if he needed it. He winced and turned away, feeling the self-disgust rising in him again. "You're not exactly living off quiche," she noted happily.

She walked up to him, backing him up toward a wall, forcing him to look at her, fall into her icy blue eyes and remember, remember _everything_ – _the girl screaming, screaming, Darla on top of him, surrounding him, blood in both their mouths, the scent of the girl's terror spicing the sex, spicing everything, and he was raping her too, the screams and the pain and the terror so delicious, so amazing, running through the woods, the rest of her pathetic family under his fangs, at his mercy, he the god, the demon_ – he jerked away from her, refusing to meet her eyes. She smiled viciously.

"You and I both know what you hunger for," she whispered in his ear, her voice, his _Sire's_ voice, driving the words through his head and his heart like a Slayer's stake. "What you _need_." He turned his head further away from her and she laughed softly, her hands gently trailing over his chest and a shiver of excitement ran through him. "Hey, it's nothing to be ashamed of – it's what we are, it's what makes eternal life worth living. You can only suppress your true nature for so long; you can feel it brewing inside of you…I hope I'm around when it explodes," she whispered with a practically orgasmic smile.

"Maybe you don't wanna be," he ground out desperately. He hadn't felt this in a hundred years, since the last time that he'd seen her, felt this mix of love/hate pleasure/pain self-loathing/glorious power that he always felt around his Sire; he was desperate to get away from her, desperate to be near her.

"I'm not afraid of you," Darla said, her eyes suddenly bitter again, her voice brittle and angry. "I'll bet _he_ is, though," she said suddenly, and Angel was suddenly thrown into left field, that field where there was _Xander_ and suddenly everything was pain anyway. "Or maybe I'm underestimating him," she said quietly, stepping away from Angel. "Talk to him – tell him about the curse. Maybe he'll come around," she suggested brightly, a blueprint for an impossibly rosy future. _Stick the stake in, twist, twist_, he thought nonsensically. "Maybe he'll come around. And if he still doesn't trust you…well, you'll know where I'll be."

She drifted out of his apartment, regal as a queen, regal as a goddess, completely uncaring to the pain and destruction that she had left behind. Angel roared in rage and slammed his fist into the wall hard enough to shake the wall, make his hand start to bleed. In the hallway of his apartment building, Darla listened and slowly smiled.

**888**

Buffy and Giles were sitting in the library alone; after Xander had ditched Willow had declared that she needed to go to her math class and vanished as well. Buffy's heart went out to both of her friends but she had understood that she needed to stay with Giles and be in full on research mode. Angel was clearly a threat, and not one that she understood. The way Xander had said – it made absolutely no sense. If Angel actually had wanted to hurt her, then he would have made his move by now. If he was trying to hurt her it was for reasons beyond what she understood.

All she knew was that she desperately wanted to hit him, not just for herself but for Xander and Willow as well. She hated who she was sometimes, but especially when it hurt the ones that she loved. Xander and Willow had decided that they were going to help her just because it was the right thing to do. She was eternally thankful that she had such good friends who not only knew her secret but helped her deal with it. The downside to this was that it put them in danger constantly, which made her feel horrible.

Now, Xander was clearly torturing himself for something that wasn't his fault and Willow was so obviously hurt and shocked by it that she was lashing out, which was only hurting her and Xander more. Buffy couldn't say that she wasn't surprised herself. Yesterday joking about the gay thing was all well and good, but…she didn't know what she thought about it. She couldn't really picture it, or didn't want to. And she couldn't help but feel a childish flash of hurt – hadn't the gorgeous mystery man been flirting with _her_? _Xander_? She instantly felt awful just for thinking it. Xander was a great guy in a lot of ways.

But wasn't Xander crushing on _her_? _Selfish, much?_ Buffy thought to herself. If Xander wanted to be gay with Angel then that was his own business! But then of course Xander has to go and fall for a _vampire_ – what's up with that? _Okay, Buffy, stop freaking out_, she told herself firmly. Deal with this – Xander made out with a guy. He is clearly _not_ liking it, or maybe he is and he's just too repressed to deal with it. Okay. She didn't really care, though. If Xander was gay, then good for him, she decided. _We'll deal with that when we come to it – right now, Angel's what's important_.

"Ah!" Giles said from behind her and she jolted out of her reverie.

"Could you _not_ do that!" she yelled at him.

"Sorry," Giles said somewhat sheepishly. "But I think I've found something! We'll need Xander's help, though."

"Do you think he's up to it?" Buffy asked, and Giles sighed.

"I'm afraid he's going to have to be, if what I think is correct," Giles said firmly. Again Buffy felt the pinch of her burdens coming down on her friends, and she sighed.

"I'll go get him," she said, sounding as defeated as she felt. Giles gave her a sympathetic smile as she headed out the door. She found Willow easily enough and hauled her out of chemistry with a note from Giles. The teacher gave her a half-hearted glare, but she felt obliged to ignore him – ever since Dr. Gregory had been eaten by a giant preying mantis demon posing as a science teacher Buffy had lost any interest in the subject.

Willow wasn't talking as they went in search of Xander. Buffy turned to her, not so much wanting to have the conversation so much as she knew that Willow _needed_ to have the conversation and they needed to have it before they met Xander again. "How are you doing, Willow?" Buffy asked as they headed through the empty courtyard.

"I'm fine," Willow said shortly.

"Wills," Buffy began hesitantly, not really sure what to say here.

"I'm _relieved_ – isn't that horrible?" Willow said after a moment. She wasn't looking at Buffy, or anything, really, just staring off into space. "It's like, at least I know that he wouldn't _ever_ notice me because of…_this_ than because of _me_."

"Willow, that's not horrible at all," Buffy said quietly, but she had a feeling that Willow needed to get something off her chest so she didn't offer any more than that.

"I just…I mean, I don't know _what_ to think!" Willow burst out angrily. "It's like, on the one hand I can't believe that if he was going through this, this _thing_, whatever, he couldn't tell _me_? I've known him since before we were in kindergarten! And, I mean, Xander's not _gay_! He's stupid around girls and he always has been! Why's he doing this?"

"I don't think that this is a _choice_, Willow," Buffy said.

"What if he really has been and he thought that he couldn't tell me? Am I a bad friend?" Willow asked, changing tack.

"_No_, Willow!" Buffy said angrily. She stopped her friend in her tracks. Willow's lip was trembling and her cheeks were flushed. "Willow, you and Xander are my best friends. I know you guys as good as anyone I know – you're like brother and sister. And Xander's going through something really major, and on top of that the Hellmouth's spicing it up just like everything else in this crazy town. He _needs_ you right now!"

Willow didn't say anything, just hugged Buffy hard. They stayed like that in the courtyard for a moment, and Buffy wondered if this was what it felt like to have a little sister. She shook the thought off as they headed off toward the football field, where Willow said they'd find Xander on the bleachers. She was right.

**888**

"So, you said that you found something?" Xander asked once they were all in the library. He wasn't sitting near Buffy or Willow, or even Giles. Xander wasn't talking much. Buffy and Willow had found him on the football bleachers, where he went sometimes to think. He'd been out there for at least two hours and he didn't know what he thought about, really, he'd just disengaged. It was easier that way, a life skill he'd learned a long time ago. But it wasn't working this time. All he could do was circle around the same thoughts, like scratching at a fatal wound over and over and over.

_I'm not gay_, he would think. _Angel's lips on his lips, the passion rising into a full-bodied crescendo and he's never felt anything like this before in his life, never imagined it could be like this as Angel's huge, muscled form held him closer, like he was safe, like he was something that _mattered—Xander had started shuddering and couldn't stop. He felt cold.

Now they all sat in the library, waiting to see how badly he'd screwed up again, letting a vampire dance into his life and do this to him, probably just to get to Buffy. He felt a strange mixture of anger and betrayal at the thought.

"Well, there's nothing about Angel in the major vampire texts that I have on hand – not the ones relating to the Master anyway, which are mainly what I have available at the moment – so I thought to look at the journals of the Watchers before me. That was when I found it: nearly an entire Irish journal about an Angelus, 'the demon with the angelic face.'"

Xander snorted bitterly before he could stop himself, and flushed embarrassedly when they all looked at him with pity in their eyes. "I'm not saying anything," he said flatly. "I have nothing to say."

After a moment, Giles went on. "Does this Angel have a large tattoo on his back?"

"Yeah, it's some big bird thing," Xander said dully.

"You saw him _naked_?" Willow gasped, shocked.

"Like this?" Giles said quickly, before anyone could respond. He held up an ancient, dusty old manuscript with what looked like _The Book of Kells_ in gold on the side. Right there was Angel's tattoo, and Xander knew that they had him. He didn't know whether he wanted to know what Angel had done to deserve an entire Watcher's diary devoted to him. Scratch that. He _definitely_ didn't want to know.

"So, this Angelus has been around for a while?" Buffy asked, staring at the picture.

"Oh, well, not an enormous time for a vampire." They all stared at him questioningly, and he continued "About two hundred and forty years or so." Xander sat back, stunned, feeling like he'd been slugged with a brick.

"Huh!" he said with a brittle, almost hysterical smile. "Well, he said he was older!" He chuckled weakly, but stopped when no one else joined in.

"Yes, well," Giles said, moving to shut the book.

"No, Giles," Xander said angrily. "I want to know. I _need_ to know who this bastard is. _Please_," he continued desperately when Giles looked doubtfully at the books in front of him. Giles sighed and sat down, not even bothering to open one of the books.

"After enormous massacres in his homeland of Ireland, Angelus was tracked through Europe by the Watchers' Council, wreaking havoc and unbelievable torment wherever he went. He was known as the Scourge of Europe."

"Oh," Xander said quietly.

"But then the most curious of all happened – he simply vanished. To the best of my knowledge he came to America, shunned other vampires and stopped publicly feeding," Giles continued on a more hopeful note.

"So he _is_ a good vampire!" Willow said brightly. They all stared at her and she flushed. "Well, I mean, on a scale of one to ten, ten being someone who's killing and maiming every night and one being someone who's…_not_."

"All vampires kill – it's what they must do to survive, they can't help it," Giles said gently, not looking at Xander.

"Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly," Buffy noted sadly.

"Before he came to our shores, Giles," Xander said quietly, his fists clenched so hard that he was cutting his fingernails into his palms. "What was he like? Really?"

"Really?" Giles asked slowly. "Angelus is recorded as one of the most horrific of fiends, a monster who delights in stalking his victims and both mentally and physically torturing them before he murders them. He is a monster."

Xander felt like he could _feel_ it as his heart shattered in a million jagged, sharp, tiny pieces, never to be picked up whole again.

**888**

Darla's face was a mask of calm, betraying none of what she was feeling. Inside, however, she was charged, tense, a whirlwind of emotion and she wanted nothing more than to hunt down her quarry and feel him fighting for air underneath her hands. However, she had chosen how she would go about this carefully. Merely killing the object of her hatred would satisfy her immensely, sure, but _this_ plan…this was a work of art.

Did Angelus really think that he hadn't learned who he was from the blood of _her_ breast? She was his _Sire_, and it was time to get him back, once and for all. The mere thought of running through the night with Angel at her side again, the blood of hot human hearts running through their bodies as they fell through the woods, viciously coupling again and again, was enough to make her shake. She _needed_ him back, and she _would_ get him back!

"Don't think I'm not grateful, you letting me kill the Three," she said carefully, her face neutral, her voice offhand and careless. She stared up at the beautifully horrific face of the Master and smiled blithely.

"How can my children learn if I do everything for them?" he asked rhetorically, the sheer evil power in his voice making her quiver with excitement, even now, after all these centuries…

The Master was her Sire, had found her and chosen her specifically as his favored child, his most precious and devoted disciple. He had saved her from the brink of death and given her the gift of eternal life. He had shown her the glory of their demonic powers and heritage, had given her the night, presented her with the human world on a plate. Nothing had ever come between them in the more than four hundred years of her life…save, of course, for Angelus.

"But you've _got_ to let me take care of the Slayer," she told him presently. She knew at once that she had miscalculated her words by the sudden, dangerous stillness in his movements. She knew from experience that the Master could suddenly change, still as a graveyard stone. It was in these moments that he was his most dangerous.

"Oh…_you're_ giving _me_ orders now," he remarked calmly. He turned to regard her, his cruel face betraying nothing. His blood red eyes bored into hers, the only vampire that she knew of to have such eyes, reminding her of his power. She needed to step carefully now. So she threw him off by giving him a blatantly disrespectful tone.

"Alright, then, we'll just do nothing while she kills us off, one by one," she said irritably, turned and made to walk away.

"Do I sense a plan, Darla?" he asked delightedly from behind her, and she smirked. She had him now! She carefully crafted her smile into a more respectful one as she turned to regard him. "Share," he commanded as unto a child.

She smiled back with the vicious smile of a hunting tigress. "Angel kills her and comes back into the fold," she said triumphantly.

"Angel!" the Master remarked, smirking as he remembered his few meetings with Angelus, back when Darla had first presented him to the Master's court. "Ah, he was the most vicious creature I have ever met!" The Master smiled to himself. Darla noted the Anointed One out of the corner of her eye, sitting next to the Master's throne. She prayed viciously to any evil spirits out there that would listen that he wouldn't interfere with her plans; if the child said one word against her the Master would turn deaf ears on her in less than a millisecond. Thankfully, the demon stayed silent. "I miss him," the Master said pensively, drawing her attention back to him.

"So do I," she said before she could stop herself. He smirked at her carelessness and she fought to not snarl at losing her advantage.

"But my sources tell me that he's been sniffing after her little _human_ friends," the Master remarked. "The curse upon him is nothing if not a complete abomination, that the mighty Angelus would sink as low as he has. Tell me, Darla – if he would not become our mighty Angel again for _you_ a century ago, why would he _now_ if he feels for the humans?"

Darla took a silent, unneeded breath to calm herself down. The Master had chosen his words carefully; if she was driven by nothing but rage they both knew that her plan was doomed to failure. "To stop the boy from killing _him_," she said with a smirk. "You and I both know how far _love_ will push a soul – into insanity, even. He is forced to kill either the Slayer or her little pet, whichever…and I'll be there to push the key back into the lock, so to speak.

"By the time I'm done with him the curse won't be anything close to being a problem," she finished confidently, smiling up at her Sire beatifically.

The Master regarded her coldly for a long moment before his face broke into a smile and he began to chuckle appreciatively. "You see how we all work together for the common good?" he remarked happily to the Anointed One. "That's how a family is supposed to work!"

Darla's predatory smile stretched across her entire face as she sauntered out of the Master's lair, his evil laughter echoing in her ears. _Angel_, she thought victoriously, _you're _all_ mine!_

**888**

Xander walked slowly into the house, his head hung. He probably looked like a kicked dog, he thought bitterly. Buffy had decided that he should go home and hold down the fort with crosses, garlic, and holy water. After some of the stuff that they'd read about Angelus, she had obviously thought that he couldn't handle it. Once again he'd been shot away from helping. This time _he'd_ started it all. _He_ had let Angel into his house, _he_ had let Angel…he shied away from the thought like a skittish horse.

He heard his parents' raised voices in the kitchen and wondered dully what they were arguing about now. He threw his backpack down and headed upstairs to his room. Just once he wished that he could tell when his parents were arguing or just drunk. He was probably going to have to find something to eat for himself, _again_. He felt a surge of anger, suddenly, at Buffy. He would rather be in the library trying to help than here feeling helpless.

He opened his door and froze. His closet door was open and his bed had been rifled. _What the hell_ – then he gasped. Was it Angel? Was he here even now, waiting? Xander grabbed a cross from his little plywood desk and hurtled down the stairs, running toward the kitchen. He burst in and hastily shoved the cross away when his parents froze, looking up from the bottle of Southern Comfort in front of them.

"Uh…hey," he said awkwardly.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" his mom said angrily. He looked at her, confused. Her pinched, tired face was lined with something like anger but different, her grip on the old shot glass hard enough to turn her fingers white.

"What's going on, guys?" he asked nervously.

"Oh, don't just stand there like we don't know, you little faggot," his dad snarled, taking a swig of whiskey. Xander froze, a cold trickle of dread creeping down his spine.

"What are you talking about?" Xander asked, his voice small. He could feel his knees shaking, and it was like the tiny kitchen had been cramped down into this one, small piece of the world.

"Your _boyfriend's_ sister told us about last night," his dad spat, his face huge and red. "She showed up with your _shirt_ and told us that he wanted you to have it back! We went upstairs and your sheets're all over the _floor_, you been sleepin' around with _guys_ in _my HOUSE!_" Xander didn't even see the slap coming until he felt the line of fire across his cheeks, knocking him to the counter. His mom didn't say anything, just took another trembling drag of her cigarette.

"I didn't raise no faggot!" his father screamed, his drunk eyes small and mean.

"I'm _not—_" Xander started shakily, his face white.

"Don't you lie to me! You get the hell out of my sight 'fore I give your fairy ass somethin' to cry about!" Tony Harris screamed at him, taking another swing. Xander ran out of the kitchen, up the stairs, to his room, slammed his door and locked it. He sank down the door, folding in on himself, drawing his knees up to his chest.

He felt dead inside.

Meanwhile, outside, Darla smirked in revenge as she waited for the next part of her plan.

**888**

Angel had sat in his apartment for the better part of the day, doing nothing, seeing nothing but his own thoughts.

How could he have done it? How could he have kissed Xander? He'd wrecked it, he'd seen the horror on his face, seen how Xander had wanted to deny the attraction between them. Teenage boys, especially in this time period. He'd wrecked Xander's denial, hurt him, then ran away like a coward. He felt like scum; lower than scum.

But that kiss! He remembered how Xander shook in his arms, how he'd fit right into Angel's frame, how he'd shyly reciprocated Angel's bold touches, his hot little tongue meeting Angel's advance, his strong young arms pulling Angel closer, his heat! How could anyone have resisted that, the signals that Xander had thrown out with every shy look when Angel had been shirtless in his room! Angel thought despairingly.

But it was all inexcusable. Xander had invited him in, tended his wounds, slept trustingly beside him. Xander had bared a part of himself for Angel and Angel had taken that and potentially ruined the boy. But he couldn't forget the kiss! His demon, so restless, so ready, was begging him to track the boy down to find him, to keep him! Angel shuddered and clenched his head in his hands hard enough to hurt.

He couldn't let himself fall through, not now, not when he'd finally been offered a chance at redemption! Maybe there was somewhere else that he could help, he thought wildly. He'd find a way to get in touch with Whistler and he would…run away like a mangy dog with its tail tucked between its legs. Disgusted with himself, he refused to drink blood that day.

No, Xander deserved more than that. He deserved an explanation.

He thought back to Darla's earlier words and sighed. He couldn't trust Darla, he couldn't think straight around Darla, even now, a century later. But still…wouldn't Xander understand? He craved Xander's understanding, his pity, even; Angel could take Xander's pity. He didn't think that he could stand the boy's hatred.

His apartment still stunk of Darla, her scent enticing him, making his demon purr with contentment. He wanted to leave but had nowhere to go. Darla! How could he still feel this way for her, about her, how could she be affecting his thoughts like this, even now, after she'd _abandoned_ him in his personal hell, after she'd cast him out! Gods, he hated her! But he _loved_ her! He felt torn in two, his soul screaming at him for Xander, his demon screaming at him for Darla. _Who, what the hell am I?!_ he thought wildly.

When the sun had set, he couldn't stand it any longer. Before he had a plan fully set in his mind he had thrown his duster on and was pounding the streets, his restless feet taking him straight to Xander's house.

Now here he stood, cast out but yearning to be inside. He could smell the nasty, drunken scents of Xander's parents and wondered that such a beautiful, sweet boy could come from such filth. He felt a flash of sympathy for Xander, remembrances of his own father's disapproval. He remembered the shadowed pain in Xander's eyes when he'd apologized for the boy's parents and his fists clenched.

Xander was in his bedroom, the lights turned off, a soft country song playing on the stereo. He could feel the boy's breathing, knew that Xander was deeply troubled about something and he felt a twinge of guilt like a knife to the gut. He slowly started walking toward the steps, thought of raising his fist to knock. He could explain it all to Xander, tell the boy he was sorry, tell him he was leaving and not to worry about it. He could…

He snorted to himself in self-disgust and turned away from the door. He started to walk away when it suddenly opened, and Tony Harris, big, beefy, fat, drunk, was staring at him. The man's eyes were curled in rage and Angel stared up at him in confusion. The man stank of rage and something, something awful. He'd never met the man before in his life but Tony seemed to recognize him.

"So, you're Xander's _boyfriend_, huh?" the man yelled drunkenly.

"Excuse me?" Angel asked, sure that he'd misheard.

"You, you look old enough to be in friggin' _college_," Tony slurred, staggering toward him. "What the hell you gotta be sniffin' round _my_ useless little kid for?" he snarled. "You run around screwin' _my boy_ in _my house_, you worthless fag!" And then he threw a haymaker. Angel ducked under it, suddenly understanding the despair-scent radiating from Xander.

"Mr. Harris, I didn't sleep with your son!" Angel said frantically, trying to pacify the drunk.

"More's the pity," said a cold voice from the inside of the house. Angel froze. There, like a smirking, fallen angel, stood Darla, and in her grip was a very dazed, very drunk Jessica Harris. "You could have at least sampled the bouquet before he became determined to kill you – just imagine that virgin boy, up there, waiting for you…and now he hates you." She sounded absolutely thrilled, her voice low and seductive, and it went through him like an ice pick.

"Hey, what the—" Tony slurred before Darla dropped Mrs. Harris where she stood and darted forward, her face twisting, become blurred, demonic, her fangs bared. She was a whirlwind of evil beauty as she was suddenly _there_, next to Tony, her fangs in his throat.

"_Stop!_" Angel roared, and threw himself toward her. Before he could move more than a foot, however, Darla threw the unconscious man at him. Angel caught him reflexively and froze as the delicious, intoxicating scent of blood slowly seeped out of the wound at the man's throat. It was like…like he'd been off cigarettes for a year and someone blew a cigar in front of him, like locking a recovering alcoholic in a room full of scotch! It burned through his nostrils like _fire_, the mere thought of quenching his overwhelming thirst singing through him like a drug!

"I just had a little – not the most attractive victim, I'll admit, nothing like your pretty little boy upstairs," Darla said, her voice soothing, seductive. She slowly walked toward him, their eyes locked, her eyes demonic and yellow and yet somehow beautiful all at once. "Aren't you hungry for something warm, _alive_ after all this time? Come on, Angelus…just say _yes_!" she said, her voice ecstatic.

Angel roared in something akin to agony but more delicious than an orgasm as his true demonic nature surged to the surface. The smell was suddenly a thousand times stronger, the scent of the night and of his Sire singing to him! How easy it would be to slip the leash of the curse, just this once, just tonight! Angel moaned in agony as he licked his lips and turned his face away…but he couldn't drop the unconscious man.

"Welcome home," Darla whispered in his ear, her bloody lips brushing his cheek like the kiss of Judas.

**888**

Xander sat alone in his bedroom. He'd moved to turn some music on but that was as far as he could move. His face stung, his eyes stung. His heart felt like it had been turned to lead. Why was Angel _doing_ this? It couldn't be to get at Buffy – all this did was hurt Xander. Get a girl to tell his father that Xander was sleeping with him? Xander felt his throat contract. He remembered Giles' words: _Angelus is recorded as one of the most horrific of fiends, a monster who delights in stalking his victims and both mentally and physically torturing them before he murders them_.

_I never knew what enough was_

_Until I had more than my share_

_And I let the darkness in_

_It was then I lost the dare_

_It was then I lost the dare_

Why? What could possess a monster to be so bent on hurting someone like this? Xander felt a hot, bitter tear course its way down his cheek. There had to be a reason. The Master, he wanted to rule the world and kill the humans, not a lot there. Vampires wanted blood, witches wanted to get on the cheerleading squad. Preying Mantis lady had wanted to have demonic babies, even – but why _Angel_? What the hell had created that _thing_?! Xander wondered viciously.

_There is no mystery to be revealed_

_And so we tell the truth and then run_

_I loved you because I loved you_

_But I didn't think that you were the one_

God, how could he have been so stupid? Angel had just been toying with him from the start. Was it sick how he wanted to be Angel's chosen victim? How he didn't think he could bear it if Angel had only planned this pain to get at Buffy? There _had_ to be a reason that Xander had attracted this. He wondered if there were other lives like those weirdos at school said. He had to have done something _messed_ in that life to get this one.

He rubbed his hand across his cheek as he remembered his dad screaming at him. _I'm not gay_, Xander thought defeatedly. But there, across the room. That was the first kiss, the kiss that had shattered everything, every defense. He couldn't forget that kiss. He hated the memory of that kiss.

_Cuz you were the one sure thing_

_The one sure thing_

_Maybe I'm not crazy—_

_Just inconsolable_

_Inconsolable_

Xander jumped up angrily and slammed his hand down on the stereo, cutting it off. He couldn't take that song anymore, couldn't stay up here anymore. If Angel wanted to hunt him down then so be it; Xander couldn't stay in this house. He needed to go…just _go_. Maybe he'd hit the library, see if Buffy and Giles needed help. _Anything_ else but sitting here in the dark with the ghost of a kiss that was only used to torture him.

He ran down the stairs, throwing a jacket on, about to yell something to his silent parents…when his mother moaned as she lay on the floor, a nasty wound on her neck. "MOM!" Xander screamed, and darted forward. The door was open, and there, on the lawn, Angel stood, his face transfigured into that horrible demonic countenance, Xander felt bile rising in his throat as Angel turned almost pleading eyes on him, Xander's father in his hands, blood on his cheek.

Xander let out a strangled sob as he grabbed his cross from the back of his pants and ran at him.

"Why are you doing this to me?!" he screamed, Angel snarling and backing away, Tony dropping to the ground like so much garbage. "Haven't you done enough?! What is this to you, some sick game?! Just _kill_ me, don't _do_ this!" Xander yelled brokenly.

"Xander," Angel whispered, Xander's voice beautiful and sibilant through jagged fangs. Xander dropped to his knees.

"Just kill me," Xander whispered. But when he looked up Angel was gone.

**A/N**: The title of this chapter comes from the song "Inconsolable" by Jonatha Brooke & the Story. It's a beautiful song from a fantastic singer, and the song was featured on _Buffy_ at the end of season one in the episode "Prophecy Girl."


	3. Chapter 3: Let the Sun Fall Down

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

_Fire & Ice_

Chapter 3

_Let the Sun Fall Down_

Buffy was freaking out, but she was doing it quietly. She didn't think that Xander needed any more stress. He was sitting with his head in his hands in an uncomfortable chair outside of his parents' rooms, which were right next to each other. He was pale as a ghost and he hadn't said anything since he'd called them and told them he was riding in the ambulance. He had fresh marks on his cheeks like he'd been hit, and it made the rage in her rise even higher.

Being the Slayer, she was used to being targeted by maniacs like Angelus. She remembered Lothos, the terrifying vampire king who had set up shop in Los Angeles. He had made hunting Slayers his game, used his hypnotic powers to send her nightmares, stalked her for a month before making her watch her Watcher Merrick die in front of her. She was the Slayer – she'd risen above that and stabbed the bastard through with a flagstaff after she set him on fire. She die before she allowed a monstrous bastard like Angelus to put poor, sweet, goofy Xander through the same hell.

Willow and Giles came up after talking to the doctor, and Willow went instantly to Xander's side. Xander didn't say anything but he gripped her hand hard enough that Willow's fingers went white. She didn't say anything, just ran a soothing hand down his back. Buffy drifted her fingers through Xander's hair sadly.

"Will they be okay?" she asked Giles as he came up, putting a hand on Xander's shoulder.

"Yes – there wasn't a high amount drained from them, thank God. Their blood count is a little low, which will present itself as mild anemia. The doctor told me that there was some alcohol in their systems; they likely won't remember the event at all," he said comfortingly to Xander. "They were very lucky that you found them when you did—"

"Lucky?" Xander snarled, bursting to life with a suddenness that made Willow jerk. He looked up at Giles, tears streaking his face, shaking, his eyes huge with hurt and rage. "_Lucky?!_" he yelled loudly. He let out a loud, harsh burst of humorless laughter. "Stupid, Giles! Stupid Xander, cuz that's all I'm good for!" He slammed his fist down on the table next to him and started shuddering violently.

"Xander, this is _not_ your fault!" Buffy said flatly.

"How is it _not_?" he asked miserably. "_I_ let him in! I invited him into my _home_ and I…god, this is all my fault! How could I be so stupid? All I could think was that…like he would've…_me_, anyway…" he mumbled, ashamed.

"Hey!" Giles said angrily, gripping Xander's shoulder very hard. "You _will_ find someone one day, Xander, so don't ever assume that you aren't _worthy_. This…_fiend_ has used you as a pawn and you are _not_ to blame for that."

"Which is why I'm going to find him and kill him," Buffy said coldly. "This vamp is crazy, he's evil, and he's hurting _my_ friends trying to hurt _me_. I don't know what his deal is but I officially do not care. He's going _down_." She turned before they could say anything, her back stiff, and stalked down the hospital hallway.

"Buffy!" Giles hissed from behind her, trying to stop her.

"You can't stop me, Giles!" she said angrily. "The Three found me near the Bronze and so did he! He's set up shop in here; he lives nearby! He's put Xander through this…I don't even know _why_! It doesn't make sense! Look at Xander – what he's been put through!"

"Frankly, Buffy, from my brief impression of his parents I'm not entirely sure that it was Angel who hit him," Giles said flatly.

"Oh," Buffy said, her voice small.

"Xander needs us here," Giles said gently.

"What do you wanna bet they fought about? The guy thing," Buffy said angrily. "And how do you wanna bet they found out? He's _playing_ with Xander! I need to stop this _thing_ from hurting Xander again!"

"Buffy, this is no ordinary vampire, if there is such a thing! He's clearly not afraid of the Master, fights other demons and wins, he's faced the Three! This is going to take more than a simple stake—"

"I know," Buffy said, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Buffy!" Willow said frantically from behind them. "Xander's gone!"

"What?" Buffy asked, whirling – sure enough, the room was empty.

"I went to check on Mrs. Harris, because she's waking up, and I looked up and Xander was gone!" Willow exclaimed, frightened. "Do you think he's gone after…"

"I know he has," Buffy said flatly. "You two stay here and whatever you can get out of Mrs. Harris, do it. I'm gonna find Angel before he has a chance to get to Xander."

**888**

Xander didn't have a clue what he was doing, where he was going. All he knew was that he couldn't take it anymore, couldn't take another second. His parents would forget their drunken rage and then he could lay his memories of Angel to rest in the painful dust of Jesse's death. He could go on with life, whatever that was. He had to believe that, or…

He opened the book cage and grabbed a few stakes, some holy water. He didn't suppose he needed anything else. Either this was going to be over very fast, or it was going to be over very fast. One way or another, this was going to end, tonight. He wouldn't think of Angel's lips, the feeling of that mad kiss in the moonlight. He wouldn't think of the pleading look in Angel's eyes as he dropped Tony's still-alive body.

Instead he gripped the stake tighter, wrapped the jacket tighter around himself, and left the library without a backward glance.

**888**

"The Slayer is out there, Angelus, out there hunting you like a _dog_, right now," Darla whispered in his ear. Angel sat, still as a statue, in his chair. She was next to him, her ruby red lips brushing against him. "She wants to _kill_ you for what you are – after all, you haven't done anything, right?" He felt her lips curl upward into a smile against his cheeks.

"Leave. Me. _Alone_," he whispered, through gritted teeth. Every part of him was agony. The denial of the blood was still racing through him like razors through every fiber of his being. But that wasn't nearly as bad as the memory of the _look_ on Xander's face. _Monster_, his face screamed. It was like a constant knife in his heart, lancing through his entire being, coursing through him like acid.

"_Just kill me," Xander whispers brokenly_. Angel shuddered in pure self-loathing as he remembered the horror on Xander's face. What would it be like, he wondered, if Xander cared about him the way that he cared about his parents, his friends? He wondered at the thought of being encompassed by Xander's warmth and he cringed. He'd never have that. Hadn't he done enough damage?

Still, Darla, his Sire, at one time his everything and now…he couldn't figure this one out, couldn't tell what his next move was. There she stood, a black goddess whispering poison in his ear disguised as honey. "What did you think?" she whispered now, undeterred, an evil breeze from a cursed night poisoning everything that he had fought so hard to achieve up to this point. "Did you think that he would see your face…your _true_ face…and give you a kiss?"

Angel shuddered and jerked away from her, but she followed him like a mother wolf on the scent of blood in the winter. He shuddered with wanting her and with the hatred for her coursing through him like acid; he was being torn apart into a million tiny pieces, one for Xander, one for Darla, one for Whistler, one for the powers…

"For a hundred years you've not had a moment's peace because you will not accept what you are," Darla said strongly, passion rising in her voice. "That's _all_ you have to do!" _Were it were that simple!_ he thought in despair. "Accept it!" Darla continued, her voice rising in strength, shooting through his being, snapping his self-control. "Don't let the _Slayer_ hunt you down while you whimper and mewl like a mangy _human_! Kill! Feed! _Live!_"

"ALRIGHT!" he roared, leaping from his chair. In a blur of speed she was up against a wall, slammed hard enough to bruise, his face inches from hers, a mixture of rage and lust and bloodlust staining his features. He has snapped, is snapped, can't take it anymore, can't take _her_ anymore, it's all coming to a head and he has no idea where it's leading, just _here_ – _memories of shoving Darla against a wall just like this, the girl screaming and crying behind them as he pushes aside dress and pants until they are skin to skin, joined and screaming in pleasure as the blow flows around them like rubies_ – he roared in pain and rage as he shook his entire body like a beast to dispel the memories.

"What do you want?" Darla asked hesitantly, perhaps realizing that she has at last pushed him too far, that he is on the brink of something, something that she can't realize the implications of it because she's demon and he is demon but he is also _other_. She's afraid of him, and that brings him fierce pleasure.

"I want it _finished_," he snarled dangerously.

"That's good," she whispered, bringing their lips together. "You're hurting me," she whispered as he tightened his grip as hard as he could, keeping her away from him, nearly whimpering from the pain in his head, in his heart. "That's good too."

**888**

Jessica Harris's body was aching and her head was throbbing and the man from the school and Xander's little friend were doing nothing to make her mood better.

"Look, I don't want to talk about it, alright? God damn, why they won't let me smoke in here," she muttered. "Trying to give me Nicorette, damn gum's gonna kill me quicker." And Jessica's always been better at avoiding the confrontation than actually finishing it, so she can avoid this too. She doesn't want to think about it.

"It's very important, Mrs. Harris – also, we'll need to know where Xander is staying tonight; he hasn't left the hospital since he called the ambulance," Mr. Giles said now, and she felt a bolt of pain run through her but she viciously quelled it.

"I'm sure he can stay at his little boyfriend's house, I mean he and his sister are way too old anyway," she said bitterly. And who she was bitter with – her son or that strange, beautiful man or his stranger, beautiful sister she couldn't tell.

"His sister?" Willow said suddenly, her brow wrinkled.

"Yeah, that blonde chick that came over tonight," Jessica said. "Darla or something; said that her brother wanted to give us back Xander's shirt. Stupid, stuck up bitch she was too," Jessica said angrily.

"Darla…how long was Darla over before Angel came over?" Willow asked.

"His name is _Angel_?" Jessica asked in disgust. "Great. Not only is my son a fag he's dating a freak."

"Mrs. Harris!" Mr. Giles said, and she froze. He looked pissed; not just pissed but his eyes were narrowed in a disgust-face that could rival her mother's and she found herself answering the question.

"Like an hour, maybe; I blacked out…I came to and that weird guy was running…but I didn't really see him before – damn this headache sucks," she whined. When she looked up the librarian and Willow were gone. More confused than ever, and a little ashamed of what she'd said to Xander, and desperately wanting a drink, Jessica laid down and decided to sleep.

"Call Buffy, Willow," Giles said. "We have a problem."

**888**

"Oh, crap," Buffy muttered as she hit the library and saw the library cage door wide open. She hurried toward it and sighed in relief when she noticed that none of the big guns were missing. Xander could wield a stake if he was forced but a bigger weapon would only be used against him. She needed to get out there before Xander hurt himself…or Angel found him.

The phone was ringing but she didn't have time to answer it. She stuffed a few stakes in her belt, grabbed the crossbow off the wall and a bushel of arrows and then hightailed it out of the library.

**888**

Xander headed towards the alleys outside the Bronze, where the Three had attacked him before Angel showed up. He'd heard Buffy in the hospital on his way out – _"The Three found me near the Bronze and so did he; he lives nearby!"_ – so maybe the Bronze was the best place to look.

He shuddered as he felt the crawling sensation of eyes on the back of his neck and he sped up, heading toward the Bronze. The door of the club was open, the lock broken, swinging in the wind, creaking like a crypt door. He knew without being told that Angel was there, waiting for him. This was it, the big one. Xander carefully pulled the stake out and clutched his cross tighter as he headed tentatively in. To his relief the emergency lights were on, leaving much of the club in shadow but still giving him enough light to see by.

He glanced around at the eerie, empty building, the feeling of eyes on him overwhelming. He was trembling and stopped himself angrily. He wasn't scared, he wasn't nervous, he didn't feel anything, he was just going to _do_ this, or he was going to die, so buck up and finish it, damn it! "I know you're there!" he yelled angrily. "I know what you are! Come out, damn it!"

"Do you?" Angel's deep, lovely voice drifted out of the shadows of the Bronze. "You think you know what I am, boy?"

Xander whirled around, his eyes darting from left to right, desperately trying to find him. He was in way over his head here, out of his league, and he didn't know the next move to make. He licked his dry lips nervously.

"I'm just an animal, right?" Angel drawled from the top of the balcony, and Xander jerked up but he was already gone, gone into the shadows, leaving Xander alone with fear and uncertainty at what Angel was playing at, what the meanings were of Angel's words _Angel's face looking up at him, the fierce demonic eyes somehow conveying a desperation, a plea_ – Xander shook himself angrily and remembered the other half, the half where Angel had lied, where Angel had tormented his parents, where Angel had attacked his parents and left them on the lawn…

"You're _not_ an animal," Xander said angrily, his courage restored by his anger. "Animals don't play with people like you do!"

"Let's get it done," Angel growled dangerously, appearing like a wraith out of the shadows to Xander's left. Xander whirled around and threw himself at him, cross making Angel growl, but Angel simply leapt over Xander's head in a dizzying display of speed and strength, landing on one of the pool tables. Xander ran toward him, almost sobbing at his obvious ineptitude and Angel threw him a sneer over his shoulder and a blur of movement later he was up on the catwalk.

Xander whirled around, cross raised protectively, when suddenly Angel was behind him, throwing him to the ground roughly. He straddled Xander's body and raised his fist to throw a punch when Xander grabbed a bottle of holy water and crushed it on the side of Angel's head. Angel yelped in pain and Xander kicked him in the chest, throwing Angel off. Before Angel could recover Xander desperately pressed his advantage, holding the cross out and driving Angel toward the wall, blisters popping up along his jawline as the holy water trickled down.

Xander raised the stake up high…and froze.

Angel glared down at him, his face demonic and vicious, fangs wicked sharp and jagged, eyes burning yellow and unnatural, utterly alien as they glared at him…but it wasn't a real glare. Xander could see the same desperation in Angel's eyes that he'd seen at his house and it stopped him cold. Under his eyes, a strange electricity seemed to flow underneath Angel's skin until the demon was gone and there was just Angel, his beautiful, strong savior staring down at him, an unreadable, bitter expression on his face.

"Come on," Angel murmured, intimate, a voice for just the two of them, drawing them into their private world, just like Xander had felt before they kissed. He felt his resolve dissolving, felt… "Don't go soft on me now," Angel whispered, so close, so close that Xander could _feel_ him on his skin. Just like that, he dropped the stake. Angel sighed, his head drooping against the wall.

"Why?" Xander asked, breathing hard, face flushed, overwhelmed with pure emotion. "Why didn't you just kill me when you had the chance? Was it a joke, to you, to make me _feel_ for you and then…" he trailed off, hating the weakness in his voice, hating even more the undeniable connection between him and Angel, the way their eyes met and held. "I want to just hate you," he whispered bitterly.

"Hatred…feels good, doesn't it? Feels simple," Angel said softly, not moving, holding his gaze, connecting them.

"I invited you into my home, I…" Xander couldn't seem to find words to express what he wanted, weird enough because usually Xander's problem was that he couldn't shut up. "You attacked my family!"

"Why not?" Angel asked with a careless smile, stepping closer, invading Xander's space. "I killed mine!" His smile was charming, inviting, and Xander stepped away, his legs shaking. "I took my time with that one, my first kill. You never forget your first kill," Angel confided with a congenial smile. "The pain, the terror, everything I'd ever subconsciously wanted to do to them, freeing the demon within me. It was like a drug! I had to keep going! I killed their friends, and their friends' children," Angel sing-songed, driving Xander back until Xander was pressed back against a wall, Angel next to him, above him, until they were the only two people in the world.

"Please, stop," Xander whispered. Angel smiled and ran a gentle finger along Xander's face, leaving goose bumps in its wake. Xander cursed himself for wanting to lean into the touch, the gentle look on Angel's face, the soothing voice despite the horrific subject.

"For over a hundred years I offered an ugly death to everyone I met, and I did it with a song in my heart," Angel whispered harshly, drawing his hand back from Xander like he'd touched fire.

"What changed?" Xander murmured, unable to stop himself from leaning in closer to the magnetic force that was whatever was between him and Angel.

"I murdered a girl, about your age," Angel said softly, unable to meet Xander's eyes. Shame? "Beautiful," Angel said softly, and Xander was disgusted to feel a low twinge of jealousy somewhere in the back of his mind. "Dumb as a post," Angel continued with a humorless chuckle. "But the favored daughter of her clan, as it turns out."

"Her clan?"

"Romani," Angel said, the word rolling off of his tongue with an inflection like a curse. "Gypsies," he elaborated at Xander's blank look. "The elders of her tribe decided that I must be punished for my evil, so they conjured up the perfect punishment for me: they restored my soul."

"What?" Xander said, unsure. Angel smiled softly to himself, staring at something over Xander's head.

"When you become a vampire, it's like a demon is born into your body. The demon knows nothing but you so it becomes you – your thoughts, your memories, your desires, every dark and evil thought you've ever had in your subconscious. It becomes _you_, but the real you? Your soul? That's gone, vanished from your body because the demon essentially kills it and sends it on to whatever the hell is out there waiting for you.

"No conscience, no remorse, just the total, unbridled evil of _you_ unleashed with the power of a demon. It's an easy way to live," Angel said bitterly. He focused his eyes on Xander, frightening with the intensity of his gaze. "You have _no idea_ what it's like to have done all the things that I've done…and to _care_," he whispered, his voice small and tortured, pleading for understanding, for Xander to care. "I haven't fed on a living human being for a century."

"So you started with my family?" Xander asked, confused, but somehow the words rang wrong after everything that Angel had told him.

"I didn't bite them!" Angel said urgently, cradling Xander's cheek with his hand. Their eyes met, one moment of perfect understanding between them, the fire of where their skin met burning through them. Xander knew then that he believed him, that he trusted Angel with his life, one flicker of knowledge jolting through his mind…and his heart.

"Then why didn't you say something?" Xander asked with a small smile. Angel didn't meet his eyes, something else still on his mind.

"I _wanted_ to! To smell that blood, after so long, hold that life in my hands and know how easy it would be to sate the thirst, to drink that life into myself…it was almost more than I could bear! I wanted to kill you tonight! You have no idea how tempting you are to me, how much I _want_ – when I kissed you, you have no idea how much I _wanted_ to drink you. I could have made you a vampire, murdered you for all eternity. I _wanted_ to!" His voice rang with self-disgust and he couldn't bring himself to look at Xander.

Xander knew that he had to take the step here, so he held his heart in his hands and stepped toward him, cupping Angel's beautiful face with his hand, so strange that someone so beautiful should allow him, Xander Harris, to touch him! How Angel trembled at his touch! "You didn't," Xander said simply. "You could have, and I couldn't have stopped you. You _didn't_."

"Xander—" Angel sighed, leaning into his touch. Xander shrugged his coat off under Angel's watchful gaze and slowly tilted his neck. Angel froze, trembling, running a shaking finger along Xander's neck, seeming to enjoy how Xander shivered under his touch. "Xander," he said again, like Xander's name was a prayer, a benediction.

"See?" Xander said shakily. "Not as easy as it looks." Angel gave him a shaky smile, slowly smoothing his big hand along Xander's neck, their eyes meeting, a beginning of something—

"Sure it is," said a harsh, bitterly angry voice from behind them. Xander whirled around to see a tall, beautiful blonde woman he'd never seen before wearing a little Catholic schoolgirl outfit, regarding them with cold rage and hurt regret from behind ice blue eyes, and he felt a trickle of fear that he could not explain run down his spine. Angel moved swiftly to put Xander protectively behind him.

"Darla," Angel said softly, and Xander didn't have a clue what was going on here but he knew that it was nothing good.

**888**

"Buffy!" she heard as she finally hit the Bronze. Jumping out of the Gilesmobile were Giles and Willow, who ran up behind her.

"What are you guys doing here?!" Buffy asked angrily. "I wanted you guys out of danger! This guy is crazy and dangerous—"

"Buffy, Angel didn't attack Xander's parents!" Willow said frantically.

"What?" Buffy asked, confused.

"We don't know what's going on, but from everything we can ascertain, Angel did _not_ attack Xander _or_ his parents," Giles said worriedly.

"So who did?"

**888**

"Do you know what the saddest thing in the world is?" Darla asked quietly, stepping slowly toward them.

"You thinking you look _good_ in that outfit?" Xander quipped, falling on humor to block his fear. Darla smirked and took another step toward them, stopping as Angel growled at her, moving Xander further behind him.

"Loving someone who used to love you," she whispered, pain mixing with rage on her face. Angel looked away from her, caught up in a private pain that Xander could practically _feel_, feel the misery emanating off of Angel.

"You two were, uh, involved?" Xander asked from behind Angel. He felt a pang of pain; god, how could Angel feel anything for _him_ when _she_ stood there, so perfect in front of them? He froze as her classically beautiful features shifted, morphed into the familiar face of a vampire, and she licked her fangs, her eyes full of intent as she glared at him balefully. Xander manfully repressed the urge to take a step back.

"For generations," she said quietly, staring at Angel. "Look at you, useless little boy. You have no idea what you're dealing with and you stand there and think you understand anything?" Her voice was rising with rage, her fangs bared in a fearsome death grin. "I _made_ him, you worthless _human_!" she spat. "There was a time when we shared _everything_, wasn't there Angelus?"

"Darla," Angel whispered, stepping forward. "Stop—"

"Shut _up_, you worthless animal!" she screamed. "Look at you! The mighty Angelus, the Scourge of Europe! A trained whore for the Slayer's useless human _pet_, brought down to _nothing!_ You reject who and what you are and for _what_? Your human _soul_? It's an infection, a disgusting abomination! I should have killed you when I first saw what you had become! But I allowed you to run yourself down, to _ruin_ yourself! You could have come back, assumed your rightful place! We could have _ruled the world_, Angelus, when the Master ascends!

"You had a chance to come home to our world, to _me_," Darla snarled. "But you threw it all away…because of _him_!" She spit it out like poison, Angel flinching at her every word like she was brandishing a whip at him. "You _love_ someone who hates us! You're sick, and you'll always _be_ sick!"

Angel jerked away from her, his eyes flinching in pain and Xander took a step toward him but froze when Darla leapt toward them. "But you're not going to die, Angel – you're going to go before the Master in chains. Such beauty," she murmured in mock despair. "But before that? I'm going to have some _fun_ with your little toy," she whispered. Angel froze. "And when you're chained to the Master's torture chambers you'll go knowing that _I_ tortured him to death and you couldn't do a thing to stop me while he dies." She smiled slowly in ecstasy at the thought.

Xander jerked away, tending toward blind panic, and started running toward the door. "Xander!" Angel yelled, and Xander couldn't help but turn and freeze in horror as Darla pulled two large, sleek silver pistols out of her waistband. Before either of them could so much as move Darla's luscious lips had curled back into a feral smile as she raised one and shot Angel point blank in the chest.

"Angel!" Xander yelled frantically as Angel howled in pain and collapsed on the floor.

"Oh, don't worry," Darla drawled happily. "Bullets can't kill vampires! Hurt them like hell, but…" she trailed off with a lackadaisical shrug. She raised the guns up and pointed them right at him and Xander froze like a deer in the headlights. "Now, _you_, on the other hand…"

Xander ducked and dived as fast as he could under the nearest pool table before she started firing.

**888**

"Did you guys hear that?" Buffy asked, freezing. They all stared at each other as another burst of gunfire sounded off and then they all ran towards the door.

**888**

"So many body parts, so few bullets," Darla said with a regretful sigh. "Let's start with the kneecaps – no fun dancing without them." Behind his pool table Xander was shuddering in terror with every step he heard Darla take toward him. That was when the door burst open and Xander peeked above the table.

Darla raised the guns but Buffy was faster; she raised the crossbow and fired, knocking Darla backward. Xander held his breath until Darla straightened up, the bolt sticking out of her upper stomach. "Close, but no heart, Slayer," Darla said derisively, and raised the gun and fired before Buffy could reload. Buffy yelped and threw herself to the side, ducking behind a pillar. Darla's bullets hit the pillar a time or two before Darla stopped.

She turned back toward Xander, unconcerned with having the Slayer behind her back. Imagine the Master's surprise when Darla returned with news of the Slayer's death! That could wait, however. Now, vengeance was calling. She stalked slowly toward the pool table, where she could smell the reek of human fear. Such a pathetic little thing, useless. The Slayer's other little friend at least had a smell of potential. How could her Angel have left her for something so pathetic?

Driven on by hatred, driven on by anger, by pain, by loss, Darla didn't notice when Angel moaned in pain and staggered toward the fallen crossbow bolt.

"Oh, come on, Xander, you useless little bastard," she called out. "Take it like a man!"

Xander crouched behind the pool table, cursing himself viciously. All he could do was tremble, her words cutting into him like daggers of truth: _useless useless useless_ they whispered over and over. He bit back a sob of terror/pain as she came closer and closer…

Buffy loaded her crossbow again and took a deep breath, fully aware that if Darla got a shot off before she could she would be dead in a matter of moments; she was the Slayer and that was the chance she took. She tightened her finger on the trigger and got ready…

Darla danced toward her target, her fangs bared, lips drawn back in a terrible smile…

"_NO_!" Angel roared, his voice a fury of love, hate, desire, disgust, bloodlust, sorrow a million emotions, a century's worth of pain and fury behind him as he drew up with a last gust of strength and as Buffy burst from behind her pillar and Xander jerked up from the pool table Angel drove the crossbow bolt into his beloved Sire's back and straight through her heart.

The scene was frozen in some bizarre tableau, the Hellmouth's version of _avante garde_. It was all zeroed down to that one moment where Darla stood frozen, guns clattering to the floor, Angel's entire body shuddering, Buffy nearly dropping the crossbow in shock, Xander's gasp, Giles and Willow watching it all. But time catches up with itself, and Darla turned, her vampire face gone, leaving only the gorgeous woman she had once been behind.

"Angel?" she whispered, shock, pain, horror, terror, love, hatred all boiled down into that one word, that one name like a curse or a caress. And then she slowly fell to the floor, where she burst apart into a million tiny ashes and particles of graveyard dust to be tramped underfoot by the teenaged mass who partied at the Bronze every night. Four hundred years she had lived, and now gone, her greatest creation, her most devoted lover standing above her remains, still as a statue.

Angel slowly stared down, his expression unreadable, his mouth open, his eyes wide. Xander took a hesitant step forward, and Angel looked up. Their eyes met, perhaps for the last time, and in that moment Xander knew that he understood perfectly everything that Angel was going through, and knew equally that Angel was leaving. Angel's eyes, filled with pain, sadness, regret, said goodbye, said a million things that Angel couldn't allow himself to say out loud, as damn honorable as he was.

Instead, Angel turned on unsteady feet and stumbled out of the Bronze, to vanish into the night's comforting darkness, leaving Xander standing still, Buffy, Willow and Giles slowly walking toward him, out of the darkness.

"Willow," Xander said slowly. "Can I stay at your house tonight? My parents…"

"Of course, Xander," Willow said softly. Then she abruptly burst into tears and surged forward, and they hugged, held each other tightly, oldest friends, brother and sister. Buffy smiled slightly, holding Giles' hand.

The sun would be rising soon.

**888**

"_ARRRGH_!" the Master roared in fury, lifting a massive candleholder, smashing it to the ground in fury and pain and horror, bending the hundred-pound iron wait into a curl easy as crushing dirt. He screamed again, his voice high and let loose a deep demonic roar from the recesses of his rage, his grief. He slammed his fist into the rock, breaking it, smashed wooden chairs, destroyed everything he could lay his hands on, finally sinking to the floor in grief, speechless. The Anointed One watched it all with cold, unfeeling eyes.

"Forget her," the child said flatly.

"How _dare_ you!" the Master exclaimed, abruptly furious. "She was my favorite! For _four __**hundred**_ years…"

"She was weak. You don't need her," he responded calmly. "_I'll_ bring you the Slayer."

"But to lose her to _Angel_," the Master said, horrified, almost to himself. "He was to have sat at my right hand, come the day…and now…"

"They're all against you," the child said, his eerie voice soothing. "But soon you shall rise. And when you do? We'll kill them all."

The Master allowed himself to be led away…but in his heart he screamed for vengeance.

**Epilogue**

"Ah, the Post-Fumigation Party," Willow said the next night. They'd decided after a bonding sleepover at Willow's that they needed to party the next day. Sure, they'd come back to the place with the bad memories and bullet holes, but there wasn't a lot of choice in Sunnydale. Somehow, Xander didn't really care. It was just good that he was here with Buffy and Willow. It kept the pain away a little, which was good.

"What's the difference between _this_ party and the last one?" Buffy asked curiously, returning to the table with three coffees.

"Much hardier cockroaches," Xander said cheerfully. "Cheers!"

"Ew," Buffy said flatly. Xander and Willow both snorted into their drinks and Buffy rolled her eyes drolly. She took a sip of her cappuccino and sighed as soft song started playing on the radio, "Let the Sun Fall Down" by Kim Richey. "So…" she said hesitantly. "No word from Angel?"

"No," Xander said, but he smiled to let her know that he was okay with her talking about it. "But…sometimes, I kind of feel like he's still watching me, in his way. It's a little…okay, I guess."

"In a way he _is_ watching you," Willow said, smiling gently. "In that way of he's right over there." She pointed and Xander jerked around, and sure enough, Angel was standing there, in the dark away from the crowd, in a white shirt and black pants, looking too good to die, watching Xander with the strangest expression on his face.

"We're not watching," Buffy told him gently, grabbed Willow, and faced the other way. Xander slowly stood up and hesitantly walked toward Angel, gaining a little confidence when Angel started to walk toward him, meet him halfway. Xander smiled hesitantly up at him and Angel reached out, hesitantly running his fingers over Xander's face, reassuring himself that Xander was alright, and there. Xander sighed at the cool tingles that shot through him at the touch.

"I…just, needed to see that you're okay – and your family," Angel said after an eternity, and Xander thrilled to hear his deep, soothing voice.

"We're okay. They're kind of repressing the whole…uh, guy thing, so it's been pretty quiet. They're okay," Xander said softly, staring into Angel's eyes, Angel staring into his. "How are you?"

"Well, if I can go awhile without being shot or stabbed, I think I'll be alright," Angel said with a gentle smile, and Xander had to chuckle, even though he was dreading Angel's next words. "Look, Xander…this…this can't—"

"Ever be anything, I know," Xander finished for him. He wondered if he could ever see Angel and _not_ feel this reaction to him, and knew somehow that it wasn't likely. "I mean, for one thing you're like 200 years older than me," he quipped weakly. Angel smirked slightly, but his fingers hadn't left Xander's neck.

"I just have to…I have to walk away from this," Angel whispered hoarsely, his face drawn in pain. Xander wondered if his face looked the same.

"Me too," he said softly, but he leaned into Angel's touch all the same. "One of us has to go here," he said after a moment.

And then Angel was tilting Xander's head up and bending down, to that moment where they fit just right, in perfect sync. Angel's lips were gentle but insistent as Xander opened up to him, and Xander couldn't tell if it was pain or joy or some mixture of both that he felt stabbing through his heart when the kiss became deeper, when Angel tasted him and he tasted Angel in turn, drinking him in, keeping the memory with him as deep as he could make it.

They finally separated, Angel slowly licking his lips, keeping Xander's taste with him.

"You okay?" Xander asked again, after a moment.

"It's just…"

"…painful, I know," Xander whispered softly, finishing it for both of them. "See you around?" he suggested hopefully, but he didn't wait to hear Angel's response. Instead he turned and slowly walked away, and he didn't look back, no matter how hard he wanted to.

Behind him, Angel closed his eyes and inhaled Xander's scent, kept Xander's taste with him for the lonely nights ahead, and felt his love for Xander sear itself like a cross deep into his heart, where it would stay next to the hole that Darla had carved. After a moment, Angel opened his eyes, took one last picture of Xander with him, and walked out the door, into the night, where the comforting arms of forgetfulness could take him home.

**A/N:** Tada! I finally finished and damn did it take fifty pages to do an _edited_ version of this! I am filled with worshipful admiration for any TV screenwriter who manages to stuff so _much_ into a 45 minute long segment!

The title for this chapter is "Let the Sun Fall Down," which is the song by Kim Richey at the end. Now, I'd like to point out that in the actual episode the song playing is "I'll Remember You" by Sophie Zelmani, but the song wasn't really inspiring me, and as Xander is a country fan and I love Kim Richey and it's such a beautiful song and more reminiscent of the angst that I have in _my_ version of this, it fit better.

For those of you wondering, "Let the Sun Fall Down" was featured in _Buffy_ season one, in the episode "Never Kill a Boy on the First Date."

Well, I hope you guys liked this, because I enjoyed writing it. Not saying that I'll ever return to this little AU thing I set up here, but it was fun and I enjoyed it, so you never know. Again I'd like to say that the original episode of "Angel" was written by David Greenwalt, and any of the direct lines from the episode are copyrighted by him and all the Mutant Enemy people. No money is being made off of this and no copyright infringement is intended.

Happy holidays to everyone and give the gift of feedback!


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